


Umino Iruka and the School of Magic

by Leicontis



Series: Umino Iruka and the Will of Fire [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Naruto
Genre: Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leicontis/pseuds/Leicontis
Summary: Book 1:  Iruka is headed to Hogwarts!  New discoveries, new challenges, new students, and new friends await, while a new threat lurks in the shadows.





	1. Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Being neither British nor Japanese, it should therefore come as no surprise that I own neither Harry Potter nor Naruto, nor anything from their respective franchises.

Just because the students wouldn't arrive until September, it didn't mean that Iruka had to wait to begin learning. Soon after confirming his agreement to the little-used position of Adjunct Professor, he began regularly visiting Hogwarts. The remainder of June and much of July were spent largely getting to know the grounds, castle, and staff of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Headmaster Dumbledore was... eccentric. He had a definite presence and charisma, and was said to be both learned and powerful. His personality, on the other hand, tended to swing somewhat between a kindly grandfather and a crazy childish uncle, with a keen intellect hidden behind both of them. Iruka also got the sense that the man was trying to figure him out, which left the two effectively dancing around each other as both viewed the other as something of a mystery to be solved.

Minerva McGonagall was a stern, professional, efficient, no-nonsense kind of person. While her manner could get a bit brusque at times, a genuine warmth shone through when she discussed her students. Iruka found himself liking and respecting the older woman immensely.

The head of Ravenclaw House was a lot of fun. Though diminutive in stature, Filius Flitwick clearly had a mind to rival a Nara, and his past as a champion competitive duelist indicated that one underestimated Hogwarts' Charms Professor at their peril. The two had a number of fascinating discussions on a variety of academic topics, though unsurprisingly fuuinjutsu and Charms came up most often.

If there was one word to describe Pomona Sprout, it was "earthy" - and not just because of the seemingly everpresent soil marking whatever she wore. The Hufflepuff head was very grounded and practical, leaving academic concerns (other than teaching) for others while she concentrated on that which lives and grows. Based on the descriptions of the four Houses, Iruka suspected that as he was now, he would likely be wearing the black and yellow of Hufflepuff; he greatly admired their House traits of diligence and loyalty. Others might dismiss them as weaklings, but people used to say the same things about Konoha's focus on bonds and teamwork, often just before getting taken down by a well-coordinated squad of Leaf-nin. He carefully avoided thinking too much about the 'hard work' aspect to avoid mental images of bowl cuts and green spandex.

In contrast, the word that summed up Severus Snape was " _unpleasant_ ". The man's dour, sneering, solitary nature reminded the chuunin uncomfortably of a young Uchiha Sasuke, a comparison only strengthened by his black hair and eyes. Why Mr. Snape was teaching when his few terse comments indicated a profound dislike of children was a mystery, though one Iruka wasn't quite comfortable asking his soon-to-be-colleagues about just yet. He just hoped that the Potions professor's caustic attitude was toned down for his classes.

The school's resident Healer, Poppy Pomfrey, sought Iruka out during one of his visits to discuss the non-magical first aid he'd used to help Pandora Lovegood. This led to a two-hour discussion of nonmagical medical techniques and their potential to help magical Healers, during which Iruka ended up learning several simple healing and diagnostic charms that would make him more effective if he ever again needed to render first aid. He could already see " **Episkey** " being said a LOT after Academy spars.

While several of the castle's ghosts were quite personable and engaging, Cuthbert Binns had such a soporific effect even in ordinary conversation that Iruka reflexively attempted to release any genjutsu on him. Apparently Pandora, charitable as ever, had actually _under_ stated just how utterly boring the ghostly History professor was.

Iruka had sought out Septima Vector to establish a good working relationship so that he could consult with her as needed in his research. He found the Arithmancy Mistress to be highly similar to Professor McGonagall in both demeanor and competence, leaving him to wonder if that personality type was common among British witches of a certain age. Regardless, she seemed intrigued by his and Pandora's work, and agreed to look over Iruka's calculations on occasion and offer her own insights.

Due to the common threads between fuuinjutsu and Runic magic, the staff member with whom Iruka spent the most time not related to his job at Hogwarts was Bathsheda Babbling. The second-youngest of Hogwarts' faculty (only slightly older than Severus Snape), she was a very friendly and energetic person with a tremendous enthusiasm for her subject and the teaching thereof. Babs, as she insisted he call her, was fascinated by fuuinjutsu and committed to attending Iruka's classes as often as possible. She was also very supportive of his and Pandora's research, offering to answer his questions and suggesting that he audit some of her class sessions to improve his own knowledge of Runes. He often walked away from their conversations satisfied and informed but slightly exhausted.

An overpowering smell of alcohol presaged Iruka's first (and thus far only) meeting with Sybil Trelawney, the reclusive professor of Divination who seemed to converse almost entirely in dark portents for anyone that caught her attention. He was left to wonder how competent she could really be after she predicted his death for the third time in ten minutes, with each prediction clearly excluding both others.

Madam Irma Pince, the school's librarian, was the kind of person who controls only a small domain but compensates by wielding harsh discipline within said domain. She seemed reluctant to admit that anyone, student or staff member, might actually have a reason and a right to make use of the library's books, and threatened dire consequences should any of her precious volumes be damaged or defaced in even the slightest way.

The castle itself was beautiful and wondrous, but also confusing and more than a little frustrating at times. While he would begrudgingly admit that its constantly-variable layout could contribute greatly to a competent defense by confusing and misdirecting attackers, Hogwarts had only rarely been seriously threatened by attacking forces, most of which had been composed primarily of former students who wouldn't be thus hindered. It was also clear that Hogwarts was able to hold far more students than currently attended, as there were numerous unused classrooms and other facilities. In fact, it seemed as if almost half the rooms in the castle were either vacant or outright abandoned. Apparently low birth rates had combined with two bloody conflicts in the past fifty years to leave Britain's magical population at a low from which it was only barely beginning to recover.

For all of its illogical and at times impractical aspects, Hogwarts Castle was still, for lack of a better term, a truly magical place. The first time he'd stepped into the Great Hall, it had taken his breath away, though a smiling Professor McGonagall had told him that it was even more impressive on feast nights. It seemed to Iruka that he discovered some new wonder or curiosity with every visit, and were he of a more academically curious mindset, he thought he could happily spend the rest of his life exploring the wealth of history contained within its walls. As it was, there were a couple of occasions where he had lost track of time just chatting with an interesting ghost or portrait, learning about yet another facet of the world he had arrived in over a year before.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Because it was an entirely new subject, with no official exams available at O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. level, and because it was as yet undetermined how long Iruka would be staying (though he had committed to teach out the end of the year if he found a way home), Iruka's fuuinjutsu class would function more like a club, taking place outside of normal class times and open to students of every House and year (as well as to faculty, of which several had already expressed interest). This meant that he could well be dealing with a very large group, but both initial and long-term interest were impossible to predict, so his office and nearby quarters were located near several unused classrooms and other chambers of varying sizes so that he could easily switch class locations based on attendance. He would also be making frequent trips back to the Rook, to share his results with Pandora more completely and interactively than a letter would allow, and to continue supervising Luna's training and just spend time with the precocious ten-year-old that had practically adopted him as an older uncle.

While he had heard of house-elves before, meeting Flippy was still a somewhat startling experience. The tiny magical servant had been assigned to his direct command at need, (though she would still be cooking and cleaning when he didn't require her services) and would handle relocating his teaching supplies between classrooms and keeping them properly stocked. She would also be handling his other needs, such as his laundry and delivering meals, snacks, and tea when he wanted them in his office or quarters. He was also informed that, should he become lost as those new to Hogwarts often did, he could call upon her for guidance as between them the elves knew every inch of the castle they cared for. This had already borne fruit, as she had shown him a room on the seventh floor that was perfect for training in private, meaning he could finally shake some of the rust off his ninjutsu and shurikenjutsu skills. Her description of the room's capabilities did warrant further study, but given the number of things Iruka was already trying to learn, it would likely have to wait.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

In the waning days of August, Iruka was called one morning for the first full staff meeting of the 1991-92 Hogwarts school year, and found himself seated at a large circular table in the Great Hall, between Hagrid and Babs, and looking at the rest of the school's staff. Most he had met at least once, but there were still a few new faces to learn. As his various new colleagues arrived, he was introduced to the school's flying instructor / Quidditch referee and the professors of Care of Magical Creatures, Muggle Studies, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Finally, once everyone had arrived and taken their seats, Headmaster Dumbledore stood and raised his hand for silence, which was quickly given. "Now that we are all here, we had best begin, as the term will soon be upon us and Hogwarts shall be ready. First of note is our staffing changes. Professor Quirrell has returned from his sabbatical and will be taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts post." Dumbledore paused to allow the brief round of applause for the pale, nervous-looking man in the purple turban who gave a timid bow. "Also, for the first time in many years Hogwarts is hosting a visiting scholar; our new Adjunct Professor Iruka Umino will be offering an extracurricular class in a form of magic unique to his homeland called the Sealing Arts, which will be open to all students and staff who wish to attend." Iruka offered a bow to the table. "Professor Umino is a visitor to Britain, having been transported here by a magical accident which he is still researching in hopes of finding a way back to his elusive home country of Hi no Kuni. I would hope that, time permitting, those of us with relevant knowledge and expertise might provide what assistance we can in his quest to return home."

The next ninety minutes were filled with budgeting discussions and last-minute requests by various staff for whatever supplies they were still lacking for the coming term. From there well into the afternoon, with a break for lunch, was scheduling. Seven years, four Houses, and twelve different classes meant a complicated dance to ensure that no professors and as few students as could be arranged would be left needing to be in two places at once. Some overlap was unavoidable in the latter case, but this was confined to elective classes, and even then the staff aimed to avoid conflicts between pairs of classes that were commonly required together by professions, such as Runes and Arithmancy. Third through fifth years were the worst to schedule, as the first two years didn't have elective classes and many students tended to drop unneeded "core" classes from their schedules after their O.W.L. exams. Complicating matters further (and leading to occasional complaints by and heated words between Professors McGonagall and Snape) was the bitter rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor Houses; placing the two together in a class often resulted in misbehavior by members of both Houses, which was at best disruptive and could be downright dangerous in classes like Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. After settling all of the class schedules, the staff then moved on to the somewhat more tenuous but thankfully less demanding scheduling of extracurricular activities, including Iruka's fuuinjutsu classes (an hour each Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner, and two hours on Sunday afternoons). He hoped to drum up some interest by showing off a bit of fuuinjutsu after dinner on September second, so that the students would know what the class was actually about. At the suggestion of Professor Flitwick, Iruka also ended up agreeing to teach an introductory Japanese class if there were enough students interested in learning the language.

It was approaching dinner and the last of the administrative details for the coming school year had just been hammered out when Headmaster Dumbledore rose once again. "Finally, before we adjourn, I know many of you are already aware of this, but for those that have not yet been informed: The third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is off limits to anyone wishing to remain among the living. I shall be warning the children of this at the Sorting Feast, but it will likely fall to us as the responsible adults in the castle to watch for any wayward students accidentally tempting fate and steer them back into safer areas."

That this was pronounced in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone the Headmaster had used when budgeting for floor polish was more than a little shocking to Iruka, a shock compounded by the decidedly unsurprised faces of his fellow staff. True, some looked exasperated or resigned, but all treated this as a relatively normal occurrence. "What about students _deliberately_ tempting fate?" He asked, "Isn't there any way to just block entry outright, or at least place warning signs and some kind of alert ward?"

Dumbledore seemed taken aback for a moment by Iruka's questions, before favoring the chuunin with a twinkle-eyed smile. "Sadly, the corridor must remain accessible to certain authorised staff members, so we cannot simply seal it off, and no ward would be able to take hold without first disabling the wards of Hogwarts, at least in that area, which would pose an obviously unacceptable risk. Your point about warning signs is well-made," he said in a tone that _almost_ managed to avoid being slightly patronizing, "but I'm sure that will be all that is truly necessary. Some of our more rebellious students may test their bravery somewhat by approaching or even slightly passing the warning signs, but they will turn back far clear of actual danger. Prior to young David Gudgeon's misadventure, one could often see groups playing a similar game with the Whomping Willow, and Madam Pomfrey was more than able to heal his injuries."

Did the man never actually interact with his students? "While I don't have much experience with homicidal foliage," being far away from the front lines of the Fourth Great War meant that he'd never encountered a single Zetsu, "I have ample experience with teenagers. The 'game' you describe doesn't surprise me at all, but there is a key difference with this corridor. Unless you tell the children _why_ the corridor is dangerous, they won't know where the actual boundary is between safety and danger and they could easily cross that boundary. Teens generally tend to _push_ boundaries whenever the opportunity arises, so I would expect several students to seek out the forbidden corridor before their second night here, especially if it's also mysterious. If the hazardous area can't be made inaccessible to the students, my best advice would be to make it unappealing. I don't know what's there that's so dangerous, but if you could describe it as something that is dangerous but uninteresting then very few students would be likely to actively investigate it. Perhaps say there's some sort of infestation of pests, toxic mould, or other relatively mundane hazard that can't be resolved during term?"

Now the Headmaster's expression was far less approving, as he spoke with a tone of determined finality. "I pride myself on having not lied to my students in the past, and shall not be starting now. Warning signs shall be posted around the forbidden corridor, and the students warned not to enter. I am sure that this will be more than sufficient to keep all but the most determined rule-breakers out, and they would likely find a way in despite almost any efforts we might make. Now, I believe we all have tasks and duties requiring our attention, so this meeting is adjourned."

As Dumbledore swept from the room and the rest of the staff began to rise, chattering in twos and threes, Iruka caught looks of approval and commiseration from Professors Sprout, Flitwick, and McGonagall; the last of the three approached him. "I've known Albus Dumbledore for many years now, and I'm afraid that he is not easily shifted once he sets his course. We have all, at times, tried and failed to convince him that he was making a mistake on something, but only rarely do such efforts bear fruit. In the end, we are generally left hoping that he is correct, or at least that if he is wrong that it does not cause any real harm. To be fair," she reassured him, "Albus _is_ right far more often than not, having likely forgotten more about magic than most of us will ever learn. He was, unfortunately, correct regarding sealing or warding the corridor, as neither are practical options, and we have no staff to spare to act as guards. The portraits and house-elves have already been asked to alert us if they notice anyone entering the prohibited area - they are hardly foolproof, but it is the best we have available."

Iruka nodded sourly. "That will have to do, I guess. I just hope the Headmaster doesn't phrase his announcement in a way that's more bait to the curious than warning to the cautious."

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

It is a near-universal rule that no matter how experienced and organized a person is, no matter how much opportunity they have to prepare, there will always be at least one thing they've either forgotten or left to the last minute. Thus, even with the staff numbering less than twenty people, Hogwarts was still somehow buzzing with activity on the first of September. Mr. Filch's sunny disposition was clearly not improved by the imminent arrival of several hundred walking mess-makers, and he was apparently working out his frustrations in advance by vigorously polishing various suits of armor. These armors and the weapons they carried had fascinated Iruka, being so different in design from anything he had seen in the Elemental Nations. With the help of a number of paintings and tapestries, not to mention his own training and experience, he thought he had at least a reasonable idea of how they would have been used, but it was still intriguing to see how similar goals (keeping your soldiers alive while rendering the enemy less so) could be approached from such different angles.

The house-elves had freshly dusted every classroom, the dormitory beds were made and ready to receive their residents, hearths had been lit throughout the school to ward off some of the chill inherent in a drafty stone castle in cooler weather. Everything was essentially ready, and by afternoon the bustle had become the activity born of anticipation, everyone in the castle doing whatever they could find to keep busy in a way that felt at least somewhat productive, knowing that they would later wish they'd gotten more done in advance when the hectic schedule of term began. And begin it would, tonight, as the Hogwarts Express was already busily steaming its way north.

It was time for school to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the last line in the penultimate section - yeah, we all know how that goes.
> 
> Yes, Iruka is training in the Room of Requirement. He asked Flippy if there was a good place in or near the castle for him to train in private, and she gave the same answer Dobby did in OotP. No, the Room does not provide animated shinobi opponents, time-compression fields, libraries of lost ninjutsu, etc. - again, I'm trying to avoid a lot of the high-speed power gains common in fanfiction. For a look at Iruka's training room, you'll have to wait for Chapter 7.
> 
> Overall, as far as Dumbledore goes, no I am not bashing him. I am trying to write a character that is intelligent, capable, and well-meaning, but also stubborn, secretive, controlling, and hubristic. It's not exactly how I usually picture his character (my mental picture of APWBD is more of a callous chessmaster), but the more benevolent (and closer-to-canon, in theory) version was the only way I could realistically get Iruka into Hogwarts long-term.
> 
> The stylistic bit last chapter was that I attempted to write the sections told from Dumbledore's perspective in a different 'voice' so to speak. I try to keep Iruka's sections relatively colloquial, while Dumbledore leans more towards being formal and erudite, bordering on florid at times. It's a policy I intend to stick with whenever I dip out of Iruka's perspective, though it'll be most noticeable in a scene coming up a few chapters from now.


	2. Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined text is from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorceror's Stone

It was true, Iruka reflected as he sat at the Head Table awaiting the students' arrival: Hogwarts' Great Hall was indeed more impressive on a feast night. The golden tableware glittered in the combined light of thousands of floating candles that thankfully managed to not drip wax everywhere. Above, the ceiling mirrored the glitter with its view of the clear night sky, unobstructed by clouds and undimmed by city lights. His fellow staff members were mostly quiet, unwilling or unable to break the anticipatory silence. While they waited, he thought back to earlier that evening.

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, what can I do for you?" Iruka addressed the older witch as she approached him the afternoon of September First.

"You can call me Minerva, to begin with. We are, after all," she gave him a small but still friendly smile, "going to be colleagues. Other than that, it's more something you may wish to do for yourself. There are a great many traditions in the Wizarding World, quite a few of which are centered here at Hogwarts. One such tradition regards the arrival of new first-year students to the castle. While the rest of the student body is brought up to the school by carriage, the First Years take a more scenic path across the Black Lake. For almost every British witch and wizard, this is their first time seeing Hogwarts Castle in person, and is often a treasured memory. While you have obviously seen the castle already, I do feel that you should see Hogwarts as we all have, and would thus suggest that you accompany Hagrid down to Hogsmeade Station this evening, then return once the sun has set. Hagrid can show you the path to take, and how to use the boats, so that you might get the full experience."

Iruka had done as Minerva suggested, accompanying the towering gamekeeper down to Hogsmeade Station, discussing the arrangements and traditions surrounding the arrival of the students. The creatures harnessed to the carriages were somewhat disturbing in appearance but turned out to be quite gentle, as Hagrid explained at length about Thestrals while quite carefully _not_ asking whose death he had witnessed, for which Iruka was quite thankful. Night fell quickly thanks to the surrounding mountains, and the chuunin bid the friendly juggernaut goodbye until the feast before following the path he'd been shown which the new First Years would be treading later that evening. The narrow path through the dense old forest rounded a bend and opened out suddenly onto the edge of the Black Lake, giving Iruka his second first look at Hogwarts Castle.

If he hadn't already seen the castle previously, he would have been totally awestruck at the view. Hogwarts Castle loomed as a colossal silhouette against the starry sky, sitting proudly atop its outcropping and overlooking the Black Lake, whose surface reflected the castle and enhanced the sight further. Lights shone from every window in the castle, making the nearly-empty castle look full of life and activity. A patriot he may have been, but Iruka could honestly say he had never seen a structure look as beautiful, majestic, and inviting as the school before him. He could only imagine being eleven years old, nervous and excited, far from home and family for the first time, and having this be the first sight of one's new school.

Many people he'd spoken with seemed to regard Hogwarts as much more than merely a school, more than just a place you went to learn and prepare for your eventual career. Konoha's Shinobi Academy was just that - a pragmatic, utilitarian school training children for a career as ninja. Very few of his comrades or former students showed any nostalgic sentiment towards the Academy itself, focusing instead on their youth, innocence, families, and friendships. Hogwarts, though - Hogwarts held a dear place in the hearts of so many, and Iruka was beginning to understand why. It wasn't just a school; it was a work of art, a cultural treasure, a thousand-year accumulation of history, heritage, and tradition. One could well say that the heart of Wizarding Britain was the castle he was now gazing up at.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Iruka made sure to firmly commit the sight to memory (perhaps Ino could show some of the others when he got home?) and climbed into one of the small boats. Two quick taps on the stern sent the boat gliding across the smooth surface of the Black Lake, leaving its passenger to continue looking at the shining castle above him. Eventually, the boat arrived at its destination, a shingle beach in a cave at the base of the cliff. Iruka climbed out and sent the boat back with three swift taps on the prow, before ascending the stairs and returning to the front doors of the castle, only to find a smiling Minerva McGonagall waiting for him.

"Enjoyed the view, I trust?" There was definitely a hint of smug smirk in her smile now, but he decided it was deserved in this case. He gave her a happy nod in return, and the two headed together for the Great Hall as Iruka related his earlier epiphany.

**Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

Soon enough the chuunin's reminiscence was interrupted by the babble of scores of excited young voices, heralding the arrival of the second-through-seventh-year students. The children poured into the Great Hall in a tide of black robes trimmed in red, blue, yellow, and green. Quite a few looked up to scan the Head Table before returning to conversations that included subtle (by their standards) indications towards Iruka and Professor Quirrell. He caught a glimpse of one Weasley Twin elbowing the other and excitedly pointing him out, to which he responded with a smile that clearly said 'Surprised, boys?', evoking laughing grins from the two. Iruka continued to watch as the students took seats, leaving gaps for anticipated first years or for ghosts that had already claimed seats; Gryffindor in red to the left, farthest from the door, followed by Ravenclaw in blue, Hufflepuff in yellow, and Slytherin in green adjacent to the door. By and large the students were loud and boisterous, unsurprising given how long they'd just spent sitting cooped up on a train, though even on such a carefree occasion there were definite divisions between the Houses, with very few students speaking with anyone wearing different trim. All the while, Professor Babbling was living up to her name somewhat, pointing out to him various students of note as they caught her eye.

Eventually the flood of students slowed to a trickle, and Iruka watched as Minerva stepped out into the Entrance Hall, closing the double doors behind her. Minutes later came the muffled booms of three firm knocks on the main doors of the castle, soon followed by Hagrid slipping into the Great Hall and reclosing the doors before hustling to his seat at the far left end of the Head Table. The doors were thrown open once more to admit the Deputy Headmistress leading a line of frightened-looking eleven-year-olds up to the front of the Great Hall, standing on the raised platform that held the Head Table but between the students and faculty. She then set a short three-legged stool directly in front of the Headmaster's seat, and placed upon it a hat that, while ragged, was still in admirable condition for being nearly a thousand years old.

The past seventeen months may have numbed Iruka significantly to the strangeness of this world, but a singing hat was still bizarre (and somewhat off-key). Still, he applauded with everyone else after the song, and watched the sorting proceed, directing his most reassuring smile towards the nervous firsties. As each child was called up, he made sure to memorize their face and name. Several surnames were familiar as being possible relatives of important figures or accused Death Eaters. Iruka chuckled along with everyone else when Neville Longbottom nearly took the Sorting Hat to Gryffindor with him, and watched as it barely touched the slicked-back hair of Draco Malfoy before sending him to Slytherin. A pair of darker-skinned identical twin girls somewhat surprisingly ended up split between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and soon afterwards came a name to which the whole of the Great Hall reacted.

"Potter, Harry!"

Iruka had heard about Harry Potter, when learning about the Blood War ten years back. There had been much speculation about how the so-called "Boy-Who-Lived" had supposedly overcome this world's equivalent of an S-rank criminal at the age of fifteen months. Xeno and Pandora suspected, and Iruka agreed, that it was far more likely something done by the boy's parents, especially his mother who was found between his crib and the empty robes of Voldemort, unarmed and having seemingly died without a fight. A living baby made a better hero for the story than a dead adult, however, and when combined with the still-endemic prejudice against those of non-magical descent, any potential contribution by Lily Potter was swept aside and credit given to her son. Even ten years later, in spite of being almost totally unseen by British magicals in that time, he was still one of their biggest celebrities. His story was almost like a cross between Naruto's and Sasuke's, orphaned as a baby when his parents gave their lives to save his and others', but then heaped with popular adulation. Iruka hoped to see the young Potter in his class, since both his parents and the men whose stories paralleled his were immensely talented, suggesting the possibility of a child with tremendous potential.

Harry Potter himself was largely as he'd been described: Messy black hair (apparently inherited from his father), brilliant emerald eyes (from his mother), round spectacles, and a jagged scar on his forehead (from his would-be murderer). He was also one of the shortest among the first-years, though given the fact that some were nearly a year his senior that wasn't too surprising, with sharp cheekbones suggesting a thin, wiry build. For someone that many hailed as a great warrior of light (despite being eleven years old) and about whom so much had been written, the boy's bearing showed him to be one of the most nervous of his peers. After one of the longest stays under the hat that night, the child was sent to Gryffindor table, which burst into celebration (including Fred and George chanting "We got Potter!") and welcomed him enthusiastically. While Harry was smiling, Iruka noted that he was clearly uncomfortable with the attention, and subtly flinched when his new housemates patted him on the back or head or grabbed his hand to shake. The chuunin teacher's eyes narrowed slightly as he put together several facts he'd seen, and he resolved to keep a close eye on Mister Potter to determine whether he was just seeing things that weren't there, or if the child's background paralleled Naruto's in a darker fashion.

The Sorting continued, and Iruka watched the youngest male Weasley joining his brothers in Gryffindor before Blaise Zabini's journey to Slytherin concluded the event. Minerva rolled up her list and carried away the stool and Hat as Headmaster Dumbledore stood, smiling benevolently down at his students before speaking. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" The Headmaster sat as food appeared on platters and in bowls up and down every table. Iruka noted a few dishes from home scattered around each table, taking several pieces from a large plate of tempura to his left. He had provided the castle's house-elves with a book of Japanese recipes (language wasn't the only thing Japan had in common with the Elemental Nations) so that he could have at least an occasional taste of home while at the castle. Now it would seem that they had decided to provide such dishes not just to him but for everyone to try.

Dinner passed in a dull roar of conversation; Iruka made sure to explain the unfamiliar foods to those around him. Babs was, unsurprisingly, cheerful and enthusiastic about trying them, and clearly found shrimp tempura to her liking. The Headmaster was using his wand to levitate at least a bit of each new dish onto his own plate. Professor Snape simply sneered at a nearby dish of edamame as if it had somehow offended him before turning back to his conversation with Professor Quirrell, who simply seemed amused. Overall, the tempura, tonkatsu, and kaarage seemed to be the most well-received of the night's offerings, likely due to the British fondness for fried food.

Eventually, after a massive spread of desserts, the tables were emptied of food and the Headmaster stood once more. The first few start-of-term announcements were clearly routine: No magic in the corridors, the Forbidden Forest is called that for a reason, Quidditch trials second week of term. He then motioned to Professor Quirrell. "We are pleased to welcome Professor Quirinus Quirrell back from his travels. Professor Burbage will remain teaching Muggle Studies, while Professor Quirrell will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." The turbaned man briefly stood and gave a trembling bow as the students applauded. "Also, joining us this year we have a visiting scholar. Adjunct Professor Iruka Umino will be teaching an extracurricular class on the Sealing Arts, a form of magic unique to his homeland. As this is likely something completely unfamiliar to you, he will be demonstrating his art after dinner tomorrow night in the Great Hall. Additionally, if there is sufficient student interest, he will also be teaching those who wish to learn the Japanese language; sign-up sheets for both classes are on your House notice boards."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Iruka fought to keep his face carefully blank at that, even though inside he was wearing a scowl to match that on Minerva's face. That announcement was phrased so badly, it was practically an invitation for foolhardy teens to investigate the mysterious danger.

The evening ended on a somewhat lighter note, or at least a cacophonous jumble of them, with a chaotic rendition of the school song before the students filed out to seek their rest for the night. Classes would be starting tomorrow morning, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Dumbledore does what Dumbledore wants, for the most part.
> 
> The whole section with Iruka imitating the firsties' path into the castle came to me when writing this chapter, and I just couldn't not do it.
> 
> In response to a guest review: Yes, I could have Dumbledore become more callous and manipulative after Iruka becomes too indispensable to kick out, but that honestly doesn't particularly fit the story I'm trying to tell.


	3. Class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of / references to child abuse.

The next night, after dinner concluded, Headmaster Dumbledore nodded to Iruka, who stood. "Before you leave, I will be speaking briefly about the Sealing Arts and giving a demonstration to help you decide if you are interested in the lessons I will be giving. Starting this weekend, these lessons will be offered for an hour after dinner on Tuesday and Thursday nights, and for two hours after lunch on Sundays."

Pulling a medium-sized scroll from his robes, Iruka held it out, unrolling the first meter to show the designs within. "This is a seal; more specifically, a storage seal. By drawing the correct characters in the correct arrangement, the seal channels magic to produce an effect, which in this case is to store an item inside." He laid the scroll on the floor in front of him, then released the storage seal to reveal a broad stone brazier on a waist-high pedestal. Several students jumped somewhat at the plume of smoke, but now looked intrigued that a design on paper could store a solid object. Leaving the storage scroll in place, Iruka stood and lit the brazier with a quick charm before withdrawing a second scroll from his robes and unrolling it between him and the brazier. "This seal is somewhat similar, except instead of storing an item for later retrieval, it captures nearby flames as a means of extinguishing fires." Word was followed by deed, as the flames were pulled from the brazier and into the seal. Rolling up and stowing that scroll, Iruka slid forward and re-sealed the brazier.

"The applications of the Sealing Arts are limited only by one's skill and imagination. That storage seal is simply one of the most common; another is the creation of barriers." As he spoke, Iruka placed four tags in a square on the floor, before channeling his chakra into them to create a cubical barrier a meter on a side. Careful to maintain the chakra flow into the barrier, he hopped up on top to demonstrate its solidity. "Now, none of you will be creating one of these right away. Creating seals that work reliably and safely takes training, practice, and more than a little patience, but with talent and hard work it's certainly possible that Wizarding Britain's first Seal Master is standing in this Hall right now." The chuunin smiled as he cut the flow of chakra, allowing the barrier to collapse as he dropped lightly to the floor and receiving an enthusiastic round of applause from many of the students and staff. "The first session of the class will convene in the Entrance Hall before moving outside for a safety demonstration. Afterwards, we will move to the classroom, though which classroom will be determined by the number of interested students. I look forward to seeing you on Sunday!" Bowing to the student body, Iruka began gathering his materials before returning to the Head Table as the students filed out, chattering animatedly about what they'd just seen.

"I believe you may find yourself using the largest of the available rooms." the Headmaster commented with a knowing smile.

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**V**

The end of lunch that Sunday saw a large crowd gathering outside the Great Hall. Iruka noted students from all four houses were present, perhaps fifty in all, though the Ravenclaw contingent was by far the largest. Quite a few of the first-years had come, still somewhat starry-eyed after their first week of learning magic. He also saw the Weasley Twins, talking in their back-and-forth way with the four first-years to attend from Gryffindor (Granger, Longbottom, Potter, and Thomas). In an out-of-the-way corner, so as not to intimidate the students, the Headmaster was holding a quiet conversation with Professors Flitwick, Quirrell, and Babbage as Filch looked on with his customary scowl.

Once he felt that all who were coming had arrived, Iruka clapped loudly to get his students' attention. "Welcome, everyone. I'm glad to see such interest, and hope you'll continue to find the subject interesting. For today's safety demonstration, please follow me." He turned and led the assorted students out the front doors of the castle and to a broad area of open lawn, where stood a pair of small, rough waist-high tables about ten meters apart. Minerva had transfigured the two at Iruka's request, while he had colored a yellow line in the grass ten meters from both tables. Next to each table stood a mannequin (also transfigured by Minerva) wearing somewhat tired-looking Hogwarts student robes (old discards provided by Flippy) and holding wand-sized sticks which lightly touched the tabletops. "Everybody but me stays behind the yellow line until the demonstration is over, unless they want to be sent back to the castle and banned from my class." he called out, and watched as the students and staff arrayed themselves behind the line with first-years and Professor Flitwick in front and the Headmaster sticking up in the back like a garish flagpole.

"The first and most important rule in this class is as follows: You _will not_ attempt to energize _any_ seal without my approval. Sealing mishaps can be extremely dangerous, and I don't want any of you to get hurt. That brings us to why we're out here. You'll notice the two mannequins behind me? They are positioned as someone energizing a seal."

"I have in my possession two defective seals, each of which I have modified with a time-delay on the charging section for the sake of this demonstration." He held up two envelopes with only a charging node protruding from each. "No, you may not see these seals. I don't want anyone copying them and hurting themselves or someone else. What you're about to witness is a demonstration of a couple of the ways seals can go wrong."

Iruka walked over to the first mannequin and slid one envelope onto the table under its 'wand'. "This will be a fairly generic seal failure, one of the more common ways for bad seals to fail." He charged the seal and jogged at a brisk civilian pace back to his students. "You might want to cover your ears."

Two seconds later, there was a loud _BANG_ and a cloud of smoke, which cleared to reveal the dummy's wand reduced to a charred and splintered stump, and clear damage to the hand and arm holding it. He had set the explosive yield just high enough to be spectacular without being truly catastrophic; no need for people to know how big a boom seals could really produce, after all.

Stepping to the second table, Iruka placed the second seal in position, then pulled a crudely-transfigured wooden goblet from his robes and placed it on top of the center of the seal. "This is a bad version of a storage seal. Properly-drawn storage seals are immensely useful, but here you'll see what can go wrong if they're not properly drawn. Our dummy in this case is trying to test his storage seal with a goblet." He charged the seal and stepped clear, and a few seconds later, the tabletop erupted in smoke. This time, while the damage wasn't as violent, it was far more extensive: The entire wand arm of the dummy starting just above the elbow was simply _gone_.

"I am not trying to scare you off sealing," Iruka addressed his students, several of which looked to be on the verge of losing their breakfast, "but I _am_ trying to scare you. As with any discipline that has great potential to do good, fuuinjutsu also has the potential to do great harm. Treat your work with the appropriate level of care, diligence, and respect, and I have no doubt that you will find this a rewarding endeavor."

At this, he pulled a storage scroll from his robes, unfurling and activating it in one smooth motion. The large cloud of smoke provoked more than a couple shrieks of alarm from the students, but when the smoke cleared to reveal the Staff Table from the Great Hall, complete with seats and Iruka sitting calmly in his accustomed place, they burst into applause.

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**V**

Even the largest of the classrooms Iruka had available was full nearly to capacity once his class had settled in. A handful had left after the safety demonstration, but most still seemed eager. "Once again, welcome everyone to Sealing Arts, or 'fuuinjutsu' as my people call it. For those with very short memories, I am Adjunct Professor Umino Iruka; in my homeland we state our family names first, so I am properly addressed as Professor Umino."

"First off, a show of hands: Who here has used a calligraphy brush before?" About half a dozen students raised their hands, mostly those with Asiatic features, although Dean Thomas of Gryffindor also had his hand up. "Those with their hands up will likely find this lesson a little bit boring, but you'll have a head start on the rest of the class, and I hope you'll use your experience to help the others." He saw heads nodding, even if most of the class looked somewhat confused at this point. "Even if your seal is designed properly, it can still fail if you cannot _draw_ it properly. Calligraphy takes a lot of practice to get good at, and even more practice to get good and fast at, so that's where we'll be starting in the hopes that by the time you've learned enough sealing theory to begin drawing actual seals, your hands will be able to follow through for your minds."

Iruka spent the remainder of that weekend's lesson instructing the students in how to use the calligraphy brushes he had provided. Before dismissing the class, he pulled out a stack of parchments. "These parchments contain a list of many of the more basic characters used in seal-writing. Any of you who wish to practice between classes, come take one of these and you'll be able to sign out a brush kit, with the understanding that if you mistreat your brushes you will pay to have them replaced."

About a quarter of the students lined up to get practice guides, followed by the Professors, as the rest of the class dispersed. Last in line was the Headmaster, whose eyes twinkled with merriment as he signed out a brush set. "I do hope I prove trustworthy with your brushes, Professor." he said with mock-seriousness.

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**V**

That Tuesday, though there were a handful of new faces, the overall size of the class had dropped by about twenty percent. Clearly some of the students hadn't realized that learning to scribe seals would require actually learning _how_ to write them, and considered the calligraphy aspect too boring to bother with. A few others were probably scared off by the safety demonstration, but didn't want to show this in front of their peers by leaving immediately. Either way, the Gryffindor contingent was heavily depleted, with only a couple of students beyond the twins and the first-years, now about matching the small group from Slytherin in size. Clearly the Hufflepuffs weren't afraid of a bit of work, and the Ravenclaws' curiosity was largely undimmed. Iruka's class would continue to dwindle over the next several weeks, while picking up the occasional late-comer, finally mostly settling down at about thirty-five total pupils.

As the weeks wore on, Iruka soon settled into a routine. There hadn't been enough interest to merit a class on Japanese language, but a few students were interested enough that Iruka ended up holding tutoring sessions as scheduling permitted. Other than his class and tutoring sessions, much of the chuunin's time was spent poring over Hogwarts' Library for anything that might help in his and Pandora's research, including skimming the History section on occasion for mentions of other displaced travelers like himself or anything like chakra or shinobi. Several times a week, he would return to the Rook to update and consult with Pandora, chat with Xeno, and spend time with Luna and continue guiding her training. She had now reached the point of being able to mold her chakra consistently, and was currently working on the leaf-sticking exercise.

Several students had drawn the ninja teacher's attention for various reasons. Hermione Granger, who seemed to spend almost as much time in the library as he did, appeared to be having trouble connecting with her peers. Given her personality, which reminded him of Sakura at the same age; it was likely that her forceful, driven attitude and bookish nature were contributing significantly to this, as had been the case with the pink-haired kunoichi. While Sakura may have been mostly teased for her large forehead, that had largely been because it was an easy target, as much of the bullies' true animosity towards her had been from resentment of her academic successes. If things didn't improve for Hermione soon, he'd speak to her discreetly or ask Professor McGonagall to do so and advise her on ways to be less... abrasive.

There were two students in his Sealing class that he now strongly suspected had troubled home lives. While Harry Potter was the first he had noticed, due to the attention the reluctant child celebrity drew, he had also noticed the boy's housemate Neville Longbottom showing problematically low self-esteem. It was to his dismay that Minerva had sadly informed him that Wizarding Britain did not have a legal framework in place to aid children with bad guardians when he had asked about proper procedures for reporting suspected abuse. Muggle law-enforcement did act on child abuse, she noted, but when the child in question was away at a boarding school they couldn't talk about, it made explaining things to law enforcement exceedingly difficult, and most students from abusive Muggle households tended to simply take refuge at Hogwarts and the homes of their magical friends before moving entirely into the Wizarding side of the world at their first opportunity.

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**V**

Nobody that knew Umino Iruka would ever claim that he didn't do everything he could for his students' sake. If legal intervention was out, that only left a more direct approach, which was why he was now making full use of his shinobi stealth skills (and dressed accordingly, including a facemask and gloves) as he alighted on the roof of #4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Minerva had given him the address of Mr. Potter's guardians as soon as he stated his intention to investigate further whether something was wrong and if anything could be done about it, and told him what she recalled from her day observing the family a decade before. She had also muttered sulphurously about "the worst kind of Muggles" and a "stubborn old fool".

A quick glance down at the driveway showed Mr. Dursley's car to be absent; unsurprising, as it was a workday. This was actually the chuunin's fourth visit to the neighborhood, the previous three having been spent observing the comings and goings of the Dursley family both to begin assessing their behavior and personalities and to determine a good time for a closer inspection of their home.

Vernon Dursley was an obese man whose movements showed a bit of muscle beneath the fat, but not nearly at the level of an Akimichi. What little Iruka had seen of the man suggested a prideful and likely boastful nature based on the way he swaggered to and from his immaculately-polished and presumably expensive car, but any more than that would require more time observing the man's behavior. In contrast to her husband's girth, Petunia Dursley was rail-thin, with an unattractive face that seemed mostly set in one of two expressions - a saccharine smile or a haughty, disapproving scowl. She spent much of her time outside her house running errands, gossiping with other women in the neighborhood, and performing autumn upkeep tasks on the front flower beds, such as removing dying annuals and pruning certain perennials. This last task was performed without the smoothness of familiarity, suggesting that one or both of the boys now away at boarding school had previously handled the chore.

Like much of the street, the exterior of #4 practically screamed out its conformity and 'propriety'. The flower beds were a study in rigid uniformity, a place for everything and everything in its place. If anything, the Dursley house seemed _more_ 'normal' or 'regular' than those around it, as if the residents were making extra effort to fit in. The whole thing set off Iruka's shinobi sensibilities in a big way, as the more effort someone puts into maintaining an image, the more likely it is that the image is a mask for something far different.

If they followed their typical schedule, Vernon would be at work, Dudley still away at school (it was only late October), and Petunia out running errands for at least the next hour - plenty of time to get in, check things over, and get back out.

Stepping off the roof, Iruka casually and silently dropped the two storeys to the back garden, carefully peering in the windows at the back of the house and listening for any activity. Once he was satisfied that the house was empty, he made quick work of picking the lock on the back door and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The inside of #4 was just as pristine and regimented as the outside, unnaturally so. Had he been familiar with Muggle films, he would have described it as disturbingly Stepford. The entirety of the ground floor looked like a staged imitation of a home, rather than somewhere an actual family lived, lacking any of the natural clutter generated by most people as they go about their lives.

There were no books on the ground floor, save for a couple of cookbooks set neatly at one end of the kitchen counter, though there were some newspapers and magazines on housekeeping and entertainment gossip in this living room. The walls were festooned with numerous family photos, with the only child they contained looking like a smaller (at least vertically) version of Vernon without the mustache. In fact, nothing Iruka could see suggested that Harry Potter had ever even been in this house. Tabling a more thorough search for after he'd done a more general look-through, he headed upstairs.

The first floor of #4 contained a bathroom (nothing of note present or lacking) and four bedrooms. It was in the bedrooms that the chuunin found the first signs of genuine human habitation: Judging by the adult belongings and asymmetrically-compressed king-size bed, the largest bedroom belonged to the Dursley parents. Across the hall from the master bedroom was what appeared to be a guest bedroom, judging by how it lacked any personal effects. At the far end of the hall was a room that appeared to contain much of the mess absent from the ground floor, as it was utterly packed with a variety of toys and games, with both playthings and very large children's clothing scattered everywhere.

It was between the master bedroom and what appeared to be Dudley's bedroom that Iruka found his first signs of a fourth inhabitant. The smallest bedroom was as cluttered as Dudley's, again with toys, but here the toys were different: Most were broken or damaged, and of those that weren't, many had the bright primary colors and simple shapes of toys for children much younger than eleven. He'd have dismissed this room as simply storage for all of the boy's broken and abandoned toys were it not for the worn-out bed, dresser, and desk in the room. The bed, despite being an obvious available flat surface, was clear of the toys piled elsewhere in the room, suggesting it had been in recent use. Given the lumpy mattress and poor-quality linens, it was not likely to be used for invited guests (especially when compared to the conspicuous consumption on display elsewhere in the house). It all added up to indicate that someone had been sleeping in this room relatively soon before Dudley and Harry went off to their respective schools. On the other hand, nothing about the room showed the stamp of an inhabitant's personality, as every person consciously and unconsciously shapes their environment to suit them over time. He was missing something.

A more thorough search of the bedrooms told him little that he didn't already know, though he did find that a floorboard under the bed in the smallest bedroom had been recently pried up and replaced, suggesting a hiding place even if the void beneath was currently empty. Other than a few trashy romance novels in the master bedroom, most of the books in #4 were stowed in the smallest bedroom, and were clearly aimed at children of various ages. Many of the books were damaged to some degree, and he noted that all were about mundane topics such as aeroplanes and automobiles, rather than more fantastic subjects like magic and monsters.

Thankful that Mrs. Dursley kept her curtains shut (presumably to keep out nosey neighbors like herself), Iruka returned to the ground floor to continue his more thorough search. Almost immediately, he found a piece he'd been missing from the puzzle.

The cupboard under the stairs.

Iruka scowled fiercely as he took in the small, worn cot on the floor of the cupboard, and the thin, threadbare blanket covering it. It didn't take a Nara to figure out that _this_ was where Harry had likely spent much of the last decade. A house with four bedrooms and four occupants, and the Dursleys put their nephew in a Sage-blasted _storage closet_. Putting the pieces together, the veteran teacher's mind produced a picture of long-term systematic mental abuse, though thankfully the lack of bloodstains indicated that physical abuse was less likely. Still, Harry Potter was going to need some strong positive human connections to heal from what happened here. Not for the first time, Iruka wished that Naruto was here, with his seemingly limitless ability to easily connect to people and bring out their best natures. As things stood, it would fall to him to handle things and help his student as best he could. Like a generation before, it was again time for Iruka to reach out to a lonely, mistreated orphan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Iruka makes his first real use of his ninja skills in this fic. Sharp-eyed readers may be able to guess why he'll be needing them again next chapter.
> 
> Another question to my readers: Are there any particular material requirements for fuuinjutsu? I can't find any broad canonical restrictions (though at least some seals need to be scribed in blood), so this is more a case of "what makes sense to people". Basically, I need to figure out whether Iruka's students will be able to produce active seals outside of class.
> 
> In this fic, Harry's abuse is as it's portrayed in the books - mental/emotional/verbal abuse, coupled with forced confinement, starvation, and some physical violence (other than Dudley and his gang, Vernon might occasionally swat at Harry or handle him roughly when dragging him around or throwing him into his cupboard). The only full-on beatings are delivered by Dudley and his 'friends'.
> 
> I imagine that Konoha takes a very dim view of child abuse, and that the Academy teachers know the signs to look for. Ninja-level observational skills obviously help in that regard. On the flip side, the cases in which abuse is most likely to be discovered and dealt with are Academy students from civilian families, while clan children are least likely. The clans have more leeway in how they treat their children, since they all have their own secret training methods and practices. As I pointed out to a reviewer back on FFnet, most people would not consider implanting your child with a colony of parasitic insects to be good parenting. That leeway, plus the fact that the abuser is more likely to have political clout within the village, means that identifying and dealing with abuse of a clan child would be fairly difficult. I would actually argue that, depending on how representative those scenes we saw of her home life were, Hinata may have been a victim of abuse, in her case in the form of mental abuse coupled with unnecessarily rough training. There are certainly plenty of fics whose authors seem to agree on that, though many more simply paint Hiashi as strict and cold.
> 
> A guest reviewer asked where Iruka would be Sorted, and my answer is that he'd be a Hufflepuff, for loyalty more than anything else, with Gryffindor as a secondary pick.


	4. Trick or Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined text comes from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorceror's Stone

Just as the Opening Feast had seen the Great Hall glimmering with welcome, the Halloween Feast turned it into a spectacle. Hundreds of bats swarmed through the air, and the floating candles were now ensconced inside hollowed-out pumpkins with faces carved in them, dimming the Hall significantly and casting angular, flickering shadows everywhere. Overall, the decorations gave the hall a feeling of light-hearted spookiness. Dinner was half over, and he was considering how to approach Mr. Potter after Seals tonight, when the previously-absent Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, disheveled and wide-eyed with fear. "TROLL! Troll in the dungeons!" he cried out between gasps, before adding in a tone of quiet shock, "thought you ought to know..." and collapsing to the floor in what seemed to Iruka to be a less-than-genuine faint.

The student body erupted into noise and growing panic, until several loud purple firecrackers from the Headmaster's wand caught their attention and quieted them. "Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

" **STOP!** " Iruka bellowed, using chakra to boost his voice as he subconsciously dropped into 'battlefield commander' mode and began barking orders rapid-fire. "All students gather by the Gryffindor table, youngest towards the corner furthest from the doors. Prefects, take a headcount and notify staff _immediately_ if anyone is unaccounted-for. Headmaster, I recommend detailing a group of staff to defend the students here and another group to find and deal with this troll." In a much quieter voice, he continued, "I recommend _against_ sending the students through the halls unprotected, especially when at least some would be headed into the same portion of the castle we were just told contains the threat."

Dumbledore seemed startled that someone would countermand his orders, but at Iruka's quiet rebuke he gave a grim nod and began selecting staff to accompany him in seeking out the troll. At the same time, one of the students called out, "Professors! One of our first-years is missing!" Iruka turned to see the shout came from Percy Weasley.

The next shout came from Harry Potter. "It's Hermione! She's in the girl's loo! _She doesn't know about the troll!_ " A fellow Gryffindor first-year, Lavender Brown, called out which restroom the girl was last seen in.

Iruka addressed Professor Dumbledore. "I'll get her." He casually vaulted the Head Table and dashed for the hall doors, closing them with a wave of his wand as soon as he was through, before leaping up the stairs in a single bound and going from civilian speed to his full speed.

In under a minute, he was standing outside the restroom in question, and promptly disregarded propriety as he entered. "Ms. Granger?" His query elicited a slight squeak of surprise from one of the stalls. "I'm sorry to barge in, but there's an emergency right now and we need to get you back to the Great Hall for safety."

"Professor?" came the confused response.

Rhythmic vibrations in the floor spoke of heavy footfalls nearby. "Ms. Granger, we need to go _right now_." he said quietly but insistently. The stall door opened slightly and the girl's face peeked out hesitantly. Unfortunately, this action was simultaneously mirrored by the washroom door opening and a far less friendly face peering through.

The first thing that hit him was the smell, the overpowering odor of a creature with absolutely no personal hygiene. Next was its appearance: The troll was about four meters tall, with gray, stone-like skin, very little of which was covered by its ragged loincloth and vest. Its legs were short and thick, bearing the weight of its large round torso capped with a disproportionately small head. One of its long, powerful arms held a large wooden club, which it had been dragging behind it and which now would have been the third thing to hit Iruka had he not sidestepped.

A booming crash reverberated around the room as chips of stone flew and the floor shook with the force of the blow. Ms. Granger screamed in terror, and seemed on the verge of fainting, while the troll simply looked at the point of impact as if confused as to why there hadn't been the expected squishing event.

Iruka had no intention of being there when it figured things out and took another swing, especially with one of his students in danger. He dashed over to Hermione and picked her up in his arms before moving deeper into the room, trying to draw the troll away from the door it was presently blocking. Their attacker obliged, lumbering into the room and swinging its club wildly about, smashing stalls and sinks seemingly just for the sake of destruction. Once it was well clear of the door, he timed his move for the moment it committed to another heavy forehand swing.

As he and his terrified passenger maintained their tight grips on each other, he leapt up and to the left, towards the wall over the shoulder of the troll's club-wielding arm, taking advantage of the opening presented by the momentum of the swinging club. A series of chakra-charged steps bounced him off the wall and took him to the ceiling, to the opposite wall, then back to the floor at the door and dashing back down the corridors toward the Great Hall. He would have preferred to keep his abilities a secret, but _never_ at the cost of the safety of one of his students.

Slowing just before they reached the doors of the Hall, he turned to his shocked passenger. "This isn't a demand or an order, but I would appreciate it if you didn't share with anyone how I moved just now. It's a bit of a secret, since I'm not particularly interested in ending up as somebody's lab specimen." The girl nodded hesitantly, though he could see her shock starting to recede as her mind began to analyze the evening's events. Nodding in acceptance, Iruka knocked on the doors of the Great Hall, called "Professor Umino, coming in!" and was pleased to see a number of staff and upper-year students with their wands lowered but still in hand facing the doors.

"Poppy, would you look after Ms. Granger? She's just had a bad fright." he addressed the school Healer, before calling out, "Flippy!" The house-elf arrived with a pop. "Tell the Headmaster that the troll was last seen in the girls' toilet, first floor, west corridor." Flippy nodded and popped away. Towards Professor Sprout, he asked, "Any other students missing?" A shake of her head allowed him to relax. Finally, he turned back to the student body with a grin that mixed wry and sheepish. "I'm afraid that due to unforeseen circumstances, Sealing class will be canceled this evening."

**-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-**

It was nearly midnight by the time Albus had finally finished handling the fallout from the night's excitement. Amelia Bones had been less than pleased when he had notified her of the intrusion, but grudgingly accepted his assurance that the wards had been adjusted to prevent a reoccurrence. There had been no need to inform her that the gap in the wards had been opened deliberately to admit Quirinus's contribution to the Stone's protection; the fewer people that knew the Stone was at Hogwarts, the better.

He, along with Minerva and Filius, had followed the information provided by Professor Umino via elf and found the troll on the first floor, shuffling its way in the direction of the Great Hall. The misguided creature had found itself quite overmatched and was quickly subdued before Albus had enchanted its club as a one-way portkey to a suitable preserve and sent it back to its natural habitat. It had taken all three staff members to put the girls' toilet mostly back to rights, though Argus would likely still have to spend much of the next day completing the repairs and cleanup, particularly purging the last of the troll's rather pungent odor from the area.

While the students had all come through the event unscathed, Severus had been injured by Hagrid's defense in his zeal to confirm that the corridor was still secure, as the troll was a rather obvious distraction ploy. The proud young man refused to see Poppy, unfortunately, but rather insisted upon treating the bite wound himself.

Now, as Albus carried out his evening ablutions, he contemplated the reports he'd received through the castle's portraits. Apparently Professor Umino had cleared the entirety of the Entrance Hall stairs in a single leap, then proceeded to dash through the corridors at speeds even a top-of-the-line racing broom would have been hard-pressed to match. Most of the portraits had seen him as little more than a blur of motion, with only the portrait of Elizabeth Woodbridge, who had been a professional Seeker in her youth, being able to confirm that the blur had in fact been the Adjunct Professor. Shocked at the reports, the Headmaster himself had returned to the corridor in question and cast a spell normally used by hunters and law-enforcement, which outlined and illuminated recent footprints.

The troll's large, shuffling footprints were easily distinguished and dismissed, but the floors were otherwise such a riot of traffic that he was unable to find anything of use, until he reached a corner. Here, he found a trail of footprints briefly adorning the outer wall of the corner, suggesting Professor Umino had run up onto the wall rather than slow down to take the turn. These unmarred prints were all Albus needed to isolate the Sealing Professor's tracks, which didn't show any odd stride lengths, but did frequently run up onto the walls at turns. He had followed the tracks into the girls' toilet, and was able to deduce that Professor Umino had been surprised by the troll's entrance whilst trying to coax Ms. Granger out, had retreated into the room, and then (judging by the prints on the ceiling) used another bit of impossible acrobatics to extract both himself and his student from the room safely. His return trail then led directly back to the Great Hall.

Being gainsaid in front of the entire population of the castle was not something Albus had enjoyed, but it had been the correct decision. He shuddered to think of what could have happened had a disordered and unguarded group of children come upon the troll. One of his tasks tonight had been to update the centuries-old Hogwarts policy of securing students in their Houses during an emergency, amending it to cover cases where the students are already congregated in a defensible location or where the threat is believed to be in the vicinity of one or more House Common Rooms.

The Adjunct Professor's tone had been one of command; not the tone of a teacher commanding students, but the tone Albus had heard and used among the forces opposing Gellert almost a half-century before. Combined with Alastor's insights, there could now be no question that Umino Iruka was a soldier, and quite probably one with no small amount of experience on the field of battle. While this was still concerning, as were his clear attempts to conceal his background and abilities, many of Albus's fears were allayed at least somewhat by the Professor's actions.

First, he had shown great presence of mind in seeing the flaw in Albus's commands, and the courage to do what was right in countermanding them. Further, he had immediately set the students to arranging a defense, with the most vulnerable among them in the most guarded position, and called for a headcount to ensure that all students were safe and accounted for. He showed good judgment in deferring to Albus's knowledge of the staff and their abilities when determining who would guard the Great Hall and who would seek the troll. Keeping the students and much of the staff together had also negated any chance for Quirinus to slip away and probe the Stone's defenses, though this was undoubtedly an accidental benefit. When informed that Ms. Granger was absent, Professor Umino had volunteered to retrieve her without hesitation, something which at the time had seemed somewhat suspicious and had contributed to Severus's haste in securing the third-floor corridor, as it would leave him alone and unsupervised during the obvious diversion. However, it was now clear that he had simply judged correctly that his superior mobility would allow him to reach his wayward student more quickly than any other member of staff could manage, and it was likely that his quick action and sound judgment had saved the young girl's life. His tracks showed that he had raced directly to his destination, and returned along the same path. That he showed his abilities in front of Ms. Granger rather than place her at greater risk by hiding them again demonstrated that his foremost priority was his student's safety, even if it meant revealing a secret he had kept hidden. Albus could not fully trust Professor Umino quite yet, as the entire episode could have been coordinated with Quirinus to cement the Seals teacher's cover, but the likelihood of the mysterious man having nefarious intentions was dwindling steadily.

Using the castle's enchantments and the privileges granted to its Headmaster, Albus had forbidden the portraits from informing anyone but himself about Professor Umino's extraordinary feats until further notice. He would continue to watch the visiting scholar, but would allow the man his secrets, for now.

**-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-**

Hermione Granger was confused. No, she was downright _baffled_! She was lying awake in a bed in the Hospital Wing and _trying_ to process everything that had happened the previous day. The problem was, there was just so _much_ of it!

First, she'd successfully learned the basic Hover Charm in class, earning points and more importantly praise from Professor Flitwick. Unfortunately, she'd been partnered with _Weasley_. That _boy_ had _ignored_ much of the Professor's instructions, taken _no notes_ , and then proceeded to flail around (nearly hitting her several times) while utterly _mangling_ the incantation. Honestly, it wasn't like it was that hard if you actually _listened_ to the teacher! Hermione had _tried_ to help him, but rather than being grateful or at least decent, he'd actually _complained_ about getting extra help! Then, when he demanded she prove that she knew what she was doing, he simply got _angry_ when she did as he wanted, instead of continuing to work on it himself! That's not even taking into account what he said _after_ class...

School had always been a mixed experience for the twelve-year-old. On the one hand, there was always something new to learn, some new knowledge to acquire, and her teachers were always full of praise for her intelligence and hard work. On the other hand, she had never really had friends; oh, other children had _pretended_ to be her friends on occasion, but it was always just so that they could get her to help them with their schoolwork. On the gripping hand (she'd read that in a book over the summer), it had always felt like there was a wall between her and everyone else.

When Professor McGonagall came to tell her family about magic, Hermione had come to the obvious conclusion: It was her _magic_ that had made her so different from the other children, left her alone and isolated. Now that she was going to a _magic_ school, _surely_ she'd be able to fit in and find friends there!

Right?

Wrong, unfortunately. The past two months had hammered home to her the point that it was not her magic that set her apart, nor her bushy hair nor her buck teeth - it was her intelligence and her drive to be the best academically. She just couldn't understand _why_ nobody else craved knowledge like she did, why they seemed to want to just goof off and coast through school (except for _Weasley's_ older brother the prefect, he was much more sensible), why they didn't see how _wondrous_ all this magic was and want to master as much of it as possible. What did they expect to do after they graduated, play _gobstones_ for a living?

Before Hogwarts, although Hermione might have been lonely at school, she at least came home to her parents each day, at least had their love and support. Here, two months of near-total social isolation was taking its toll, and she had already been considering not returning from Christmas hols, when _Weasley's_ comments pushed her past the tipping point. She'd spent the rest of the day intermittently crying her eyes out in the girls' toilet, mentally composing and revising the letter she was going to send her parents to ask them to withdraw her from Hogwarts as soon as possible.

After that was when things started to get _very_ confusing. Professor Umino had barged into the girls' loo and told her there was an emergency and started urging her to come with him to the Great Hall immediately. It all seemed very strange, but when she peeked her head out to look and try to figure out what was going on, something that could only be a _mountain troll_ stepped in through the door! As she froze in screaming mortal terror, the troll swung its club, and she was _certain_ she was about to see the nice professor killed.

Instead, he had dodged with almost casual ease, then suddenly he was carrying her, retreating further into the room, and with the troll between them and the way out, she was sure they were trapped. Then he suddenly _jumped_ , and she could swear he ran across the _ceiling_ for a moment even though that was _impossible_ , even _with_ magic, and they were out the door and moving down the corridor at utterly _absurd_ speeds, and if they'd gone on much further than they had she suspected she may have sicked up all over him. Friendly, unassuming, middle-aged Professor Umino, the teacher that showed them how to create magic by _writing_ , the man that smiled and gave her an acknowledging nod when they so often passed in the library, had suddenly moved like some sort of _superhero_.

Just as she was trying to recall whether she'd ever read of magic allowing someone to move like that, he'd asked her not to tell anyone about it, that he was worried that someone might try to study him like some kind of _lab rat_. Apparently it _wasn't_ a typical thing for magic to do. Maybe it was another kind of magic from his homeland! She'd heard about how a magical accident had transported him across the world, from a country that used magic differently, and he was still working on finding his way home.

He'd carried her into the Great Hall, and handed her off to Madam Pomfrey, who had fussed over her and cast all _kinds_ of diagnostic spells (which Hermione _would_ make sure to learn at some point) before calling some tiny creature (she'd ask about it later) to retrieve a Calming Draught from the Hospital Wing.

Just as the little being disappeared with a pop (and how could it _do_ that? Hogwarts: A History _clearly_ stated that you couldn't Apparate inside Hogwarts), Harry Potter had come up to her, along with _Weasley_. After a couple of nudges from Harry's elbow, _Weasley_ had sheepishly apologized to her. He had said that he was sorry she'd been in danger because of what he'd said, and that he hoped she was all right now. What he had _not_ said was that he was sorry for his words, something that Harry also seemed to pick up on, if the brief deepening of his frown was any indication. Still, it was only polite to accept the apology, after which he nodded stiffly and hurried off, with Harry lingering a moment longer, his eyes clearly asking 'Are you OK?'. She nodded to him as well, getting a nod in return before he left to find his _friend_.

It was at about that point that Madam Pomfrey held up a goblet full of what Hermione presumed to be the Calming Draught. She'd obediently drunk the lavender-colored concoction, after which she remembered very little before waking up here in the Hospital Wing. Since then, while waiting for the matron to release her, she'd been running over and over through the previous day's events, and now found herself coming to conclusions:

First, while _Weasley_ was still a lazy, rude, ignorant _boor_ , Harry Potter was apparently a decent human being, and she once again wondered if she might be able to one day befriend the shy boy from the train. Second, she was not leaving Hogwarts yet, not until she was _certain_ that she'd never connect with anyone here. Finally, she was going to talk with Professor Umino and find out as much as she could about her savior...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is certainly a more noticeable deviation, eh? I considered having Iruka fight the troll, but his objective was to keep Hermione safe, and fighting a troll in a confined space with her sitting there helpless would be far more dangerous to her than simply getting her out of and away from there. Hopefully my description was good enough to paint the picture I had in my head of how he handled everything.
> 
> We also now see Dumbledore taking a closer look at Iruka, after being somewhat humbled by having his orders countermanded in front of everybody. He's starting to recognize that Iruka is capable, intelligent, and on the right side. It also helps that, unlike pretty much everyone else he deals with, he's only ever met Iruka as an adult: I'm borrowing a bit from "Reunion" by Rorschach's Blot and having Dumbledore still see most of the people around him as the children they were as his students. It's part of why he has trouble listening to other people and tends to view himself as the wisest person around. By showing up already in early middle-age, Iruka has bypassed that problem, so Dumbledore sees him as an adult; it also helps that Iruka has skills and knowledge Dumbledore knows that he himself doesn't. He's certainly not going to go "Oh, Iruka, you're clearly wiser than I am, tell me exactly what we should do next!", but a foundation has been laid for him to at least consider Iruka's input on occasion.
> 
> The last scene was a lot of fun to write. Hermione's 'voice' is, for me, a very clear and easy one to write. Yes, she's using emphasis a lot, but she's also a barely-twelve-year-old girl that's been scared witless, surprised and confused, and is currently exhausted - she has every right to be a tad frazzled after all that, I'd say.
> 
> I'd like to state here that I am not bashing Ron. At this point in the series, he's an eleven-year-old boy with very little emotional maturity and several noticeable issues. He hasn't even had an encounter with a troll to drive home the consequences of his words the way he did in canon.


	5. Students

Bright and early on the morning of the first of November, a lone figure stepped into the Hogwarts Owlery. He had already sent one missive out and was approaching a second school owl when a very distinctive white owl with black markings dove in and pushed the school owl from its perch.

"A bit possessive, aren't we?" Iruka asked the owl with a wry smile, once he'd recognized her as belonging to a certain famous first-year. "All right, then, could you take this for me?"

He'd never gotten the 'Are you an idiot?' look from an _owl_ before...

**-――――===ͽ ᛋ ͼ===――――-**

It wasn't surprising to Harry when Hedwig arrived as part of the morning post rush; she occasionally stopped by for a few rashers of bacon and some scratches, though at times he got the impression that she was checking up on him. What _was_ surprising was the small note she was carrying in her beak. He stared at it for a moment before giving his owl a questioning glance, wondering how she came to be carrying something to him that wasn't a response to a letter he'd sent, and received a reassuring bob of her head in response. Shrugging, he read the brief missive.

_Mr. Potter,_

_Please come to my office during your afternoon break today. I would like to discuss possible arrangements that may make your summer holidays significantly more tolerable._

_-Adjunct Professor Umino_

Harry froze at the mention of his summer holidays. The phrasing suggested that Professor Umino knew something about his life on Privet Drive, something he'd not shared with anyone at Hogwarts. Perhaps Hagrid had said something about the events of his birthday? The large man wasn't exactly the most closed-lipped of people...

Regardless of _how_ the visiting Professor had learned about the Dursleys, the fact remained that he had. A caustic mix of anxiety and shame coiled in Harry's gut at the thought of his 'home' life becoming common knowledge. He'd have to attend this meeting, if for no other reason than to make sure that Professor Umino wasn't planning on telling anybody else; he'd had too much experience with disappointment in the past to dare hope that someone actually could or would help him in regards to his relatives' treatment.

Ron glanced up from his nearly Dudley-portioned breakfast. "Wha'sh 'e no'e abou', 'Arry?" he asked around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"It's from Professor Umino; he wants to see me during the free period this afternoon." There was no way Harry was going to share _why_. He did _not_ want Ron's pity.

Mercifully for those around him, Ron swallowed before continuing. "Tough luck, mate. Still dunno why you're taking an _extra_ class."

"Magic is all new to me, Ron. I just want to see as much of it as I can, plus some of the things Professor Umino showed us could come in handy over the summers." Things like using a storage seal to store a supply of decent food or hide his school things, or putting one of those barrier things across his door to keep Dudley out.

"Better you than me, mate. Better you than me."

**Λ**  
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**V**

It was barely five minutes into the First Year Gryffindors' afternoon free period when Iruka heard the hesitant knock on his office door. "Come in!" he called, marking his page and putting aside the text he'd been reading. As he expected, the door opened to reveal a clearly anxious Harry Potter. "Please, come in Mr. Potter; have a seat." The boy sat in one of the chairs before Iruka's desk, his posture radiating tension. "Would you like some tea?"

At his guest's hesitant nod, Iruka rose and retrieved his tea set, its teapot already filled and kept under a warming charm to be ready in anticipation of this meeting. He had prepared a Japanese green tea that he found quite relaxing, hoping that it would have a similar effect on Harry; he'd chosen green tea deliberately for the British boy's likely unfamiliarity with it, in the hope that it might provide a distraction from the worries that were doubtless plaguing his mind right now.

Setting the tea set on his desk, Iruka sat in the other guest chair; he didn't want to be looming over the already-frightened child from behind a desk. Once both of them had steaming cups of tea in their hands, Iruka waited for Harry's expression of surprise after his first sip to speak. "Over the past two months, I've noticed a number of subtle signs hinting that your life away from Hogwarts may be less than ideal. You're not the first student I've taught to be in such a situation, and all of you tend to hide the signs as best you can, but between training and experience I'd like to think I'm fairly good at catching them in spite of that." He offered a slight smile here, though he doubted Harry saw as he was now staring determinedly into his teacup. "In Konoha, my home village, when I suspected a case like yours, I was legally required to report it to the authorities, so that it could be properly investigated and the child protected if necessary." This elicited a look of shock and fear, with hints of betrayal. "Apparently the laws of Wizarding Britain don't actually cover child abuse for some absurd reason," the look changed to one of denial at the word 'abuse', not unexpectedly, "and pursuing a case on the non-magical side would be complicated by both the witness and the child being unable to explain where they spend much of the year." Harry's emotions were clearly fluctuating rapidly at this point, bouncing around between fear, anger, denial, shame, and a bit of wry amusement with the last comment, and those were just what Iruka was able to read. More than likely his mind was a jumble of thoughts and emotions shifting too quickly to really process. Iruka paused to sip his tea, prompting his guest to follow suit, before leaning forward to place himself at eye level with the child.

"Since I couldn't prompt an official investigation, I had to look into things myself. I went to Privet Drive; I watched the Dursleys; I examined the property at #4; I snuck in while they were out to look around;" here he made sure that Harry had swallowed and wasn't in the midst of another sip, "I found the cupboard."

Harry froze at the last statement. This was the key moment; there was no real way to predict how he'd react next, and many of those possible reactions would crack or shatter any potential for trust and rapport between them, making it difficult or impossible for Iruka to help Harry. All he could do was wait, sip his tea, and hope that when the boy finished processing the information that he would remain Iruka's student, would allow the chuunin to try to help him.

After a couple of minutes of tense, pregnant silence, Harry seemed to rouse from his reverie, and in a small voice asked, "What are you going to do?"

Iruka smothered his sigh of relief, knowing it could easily be misinterpreted at the moment, and settled for a kind smile instead. "Whatever I can do to help you, if you'll let me. For starters, I'll be someone you can talk to, about anything, everything, or nothing at all if you want. I already know the biggest thing you keep secret, and I promise that I'll never tell _anyone_ unless you give me permission or I feel it's absolutely necessary for your safety, like if your uncle started hurting you and I needed to convince the authorities to get you out of there. You can tell me anything you want to, and I won't judge you or pity you or anything like that. I know from experience that talking about your problems helps."

"Would it help if I told you one of _my_ secrets?" Iruka ventured. At Harry's somewhat confused and hesitant nod, he continued, "I'm not just from another country. As far as I've been able to figure out, I'm actually from a whole other _world_."

Harry blinked in confusion and surprise. "Like... Mars?"

The chuckling chuunin shook his head. "No, I'm not from outer space, at least not that I can tell. Unless I've turned green?" He made a show of looking over his hands as if inspecting their color, as a choked laugh escaped his guest. "More like an alternate reality, like the worlds in stories that are clearly not Earth, but aren't just out in space either. That's why it's so hard for me to find my way home - it's not just getting to the right place on a map, it's getting onto the right map in the first place."

After another pause for tea, Iruka moved on. "Anyway, now that you know one of my biggest secrets, let's get back to what I can do to help you. If you'd like, I can make some discreet inquiries into whether there might be someone else that could take custody of you, and let you move out, but there's no way of knowing if or when that could pan out. If we don't go that route, or if we do and it hasn't borne any fruit by summer, I'd like to visit you regularly, both to keep in touch and to make sure your relatives know to behave like civilized people. Between now and then, and possibly continuing forward, I can also start teaching you how to protect yourself without magic, as well as some things from my world that I _won't_ be teaching to most of my other students. Does that all sound good to you?" Harry's nod this time was more than a little awestruck, as if he was shocked that an adult would go so far out of their way to help him. Then again, given what Iruka had seen at Privet Drive, he might be the first adult to do so in ten years.

"In that case, we might as well get started, right? The first thing I'd like to teach you may sound a bit boring, but I think it will help you in a lot of ways. Back when I was your age, I was... a hothead. I didn't think before I acted, and my sensei, my teacher, was worried that I'd get myself or someone else hurt, so he taught me a meditation technique that helps me organize my thoughts and review my memories. Going over my memories from an outside perspective lets me see things I've done right and wrong, and just generally helps me understand them better. It helped me learn to curb my impulsiveness, and think about things more clearly; since I came to Britain, it's also helped me learn a kind of magic called Occlumency, that also helps you control your emotions while protecting your mind from outside interference. We'll get to that later, when you're ready, but for now let's start with the meditation. First, we'll make sure we're sitting comfortably..."

**Λ**  
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**V**

When Harry left, he was far more relaxed and (if Iruka was right) just a little bit lighter than when he arrived. After the first-year had begun to tire of meditation practice, the two had conversed over fresh cups of tea, with Iruka sharing stories (edited, for now) about his own childhood, Konoha and some of his previous students (with Naruto and his friends featuring quite prominently), and Harry talking about what Hogwarts was like from his perspective. His love of flying made a great deal of sense - the open space and freedom were likely a pleasant contrast to confinement in that bijuu-crushed cupboard. The poor teaching in some of the subjects was concerning to Iruka on both a personal and professional level, and he resolved to speak with his colleagues as appropriate to see if anything could be done.

Harry had taken quite well the revelation that Iruka had already been teaching one young Briton the same things he intended to begin Harry on, though when the possibility of additional students was brought up the chuunin had to quickly reassure him that this would in no way lessen his training. In fact, he accepted it quite quickly when Iruka implied that while he obviously wouldn't go into specifics, any further students would be chosen for as good a reason as Harry himself had been. It seemed that he understood the message underneath the underneath - any such students would be chosen because they too needed Iruka's help.

**Λ**  
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**V**

Thursday afternoon found Iruka stepping from the Floo into Longbottom Hall. A house-elf promptly vanished the soot from his robes, then bowed. "Mistress Longbottom bes in the sitting room. If sir wills be following Tilly?" Nodding, Iruka followed the small servant. As he entered the sitting room, his hostess rose to greet him.

Augusta Longbottom was a tall, lean older woman with angular features and a formidable presence. She gave him a stiff nod of greeting, then gestured to the armchair across from her own. Once the two were seated and Tilly had popped away to prepare tea, she spoke. "Your letter indicated that my Neville faces an obstacle in his development as a wizard, which may be impairing his performance at Hogwarts and which you believe we may be able to ameliorate. I have invited you into my home based on your rather cryptic message, and would now very much like you to make yourself clear."

"Madam Longbottom," Iruka began, "you are of course aware of the tremendous influence a wizard's mind has upon their magic? Not only intent, but also confidence, and belief? A wizard that is confident, who _believes_ that he will succeed, is likely to cast his spell more successfully and to better effect than one who lacks confidence or who expects to fail. From my observations of young Neville, as well as consultation with my fellow staff, he suffers from a severe lack of self-confidence, and seems convinced that his magic is weak and useless. I believe that this is preventing him from reaching his full potential, but that between the two of us we can begin to rebuild his confidence and help him grow."

His hostess sighed. "Frank was always such a strong, confident boy, full of life and magic. I simply cannot understand how his son could be so different, so timid..." 'so weak' was left loudly unsaid.

"If I may be blunt?" Iruka queried. At Madam Longbottom's grim nod, he continued, "Frequent unflattering comparisons to his father are a likely contributing factor. Would I also be correct in guessing that you or other members of his family have often suggested that he may be a squib?" She nodded now, a slight expression of shock on her face. "I've seen similar situations in the past, where students had guardians that were particularly stern and demanding and were unhappy with the shy, gentle child. It's a problem at both ends, as you've been approaching the problem the only way you know how, but the more Neville is pushed the more he retreats. You keep hoping that he'll stand up for himself, but in my experience that would only come if you pushed him far enough to destroy any relationship the two of you have as family."

"In my experience, children like Neville simply don't like conflict and confrontation, so they try to avoid them however they can. That's not to say that they're unable to stand up when they have to, but they tend to save it for when it _really_ matters. They can be as strong as anyone else, but it's generally a quieter strength, reserved for when they need it rather than shown off."

Iruka paused a few moments, considering how much to share. "There's one former student of mine that's a particularly good example of this. Hinata was a lot like Neville at the same age; very quiet, very timid, very gentle. When she was sixteen, our village was attacked by someone that makes even the last Dark Lord look weak by comparison. He flattened over half of our village with a single attack, before being confronted by our strongest champion, who happened to be the boy Hinata loved. When our champion was defeated, the attacker prepared to carry him away to be sacrificed, but Hinata intervened. She knew she stood no chance, but still she stood between the attacker and the boy she loved and fought with a ferocity and strength none of us had ever seen from her before. Even though she lost, she bought our champion the opportunity he needed to win, and it was their son whose accident sent me to Britain."

"What I'm getting at is that Neville has more potential than most people realize, but it will take the right circumstances for him to truly shine."

Madam Longbottom looked thoughtful. "And what, precisely, are you proposing?"

"At your end, it would largely consist of a change in how you and others treat Neville. Praise his successes and express confidence that he will continue to succeed. If you compare him to his parents, make sure you're drawing parallels that are clearly positive, but in general remember that he is his own person, and will be different from both his parents in various ways. Later, once I've gotten Neville really talking, I may have some more detailed recommendations."

"My side of things is a bit more extensive. For starters, I may be able to provide something of a more immediate male role model. I wouldn't want to replace his father, and I'd make it clear to him early on that I have no intention of doing so. I'd also act as a counselor and possibly a confidant. Beyond that, there are things I can teach Neville that aren't part of the Sealing Arts, but which I suspect may help him in a number of different ways. There's physical training, which improves overall health and could improve his self-image as he matures; meditation with a view towards progressing to basic Occlumency, to boost his focus and memory while giving him greater control over his fears; special mental exercises that I believe will aid him in controlling his magic; non-magical self-defense techniques, to build confidence and give him a way to protect himself even in cases where he can't use his wand. In addition, I'd be teaching him a few techniques from my homeland, since being able to do something almost no other witch or wizard in Britain can do could be a huge boon to his confidence, even ignoring the utility of the techniques themselves. As it stands, he'd be the third such student I've taken on in Britain, though I suspect I may have a fourth asking to be added this evening."

"You've been quite vague regarding these 'techniques' that you'd be teaching my Neville," his hostess observed with a slight frown, "and I will not be agreeing to anything until I have a better understanding of what it is I would be agreeing _to_."

Having expected a query along those lines, Iruka stood. "If I may demonstrate?" At Madam Longbottom's nod, the chuunin calmly walked over to and several meters up the nearest wall. He turned and kept his face carefully blank to hide the slightly vindictive satisfaction he felt on behalf of his student at the older woman's expression of open-mouthed shock. "Based on the progress I've observed in the first British magical child I've trained, it would be at least a few years before Neville was able to do this; the intended benefits of the training would likely begin much sooner." Iruka casually vaulted from his position on the wall to land standing back in front of his chair, briefly drawing his wand to cast a quick cleaning charm to remove his footprints from the wallpaper before retaking his seat. "I would be teaching Neville how to use an energy my people call 'chakra', which as best I can tell is related to but distinct from magic, being drawn entirely from within the user. Both walking where it would normally be impossible and feats of otherwise inhuman strength and speed are common applications of chakra. If you'd like, I can contact the family of my first student and ask that they explain in further detail, as they've had more exposure to my abilities and have seen over a year of training in their child."

After a few fortifying sips of tea (which, if Iruka's nose was any judge, had itself been slightly 'fortified') Madam Longbottom seemed to rally from her shock. "I will try to... _adjust_ the way I speak to my grandson, and will ensure that the rest of our family is aware of that aspect of the program. Would I be correct in presuming that you do not wish the precise nature of your abilities or training bandied about?" At Iruka's nod, she continued. "Then I shall simply say that Neville is receiving personalized lessons designed to bring out his potential. If anyone enquires further, I will inform them that the lessons are private and proprietary, and thus none of their business. Please do contact the Lovegoods - and don't look at me like that, it's rather obvious after all - and I shall look forward to speaking with them. In the meantime, you may begin training Neville as soon as you consider appropriate."

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It was no surprise to Iruka when Hermione Granger hung back after that night's Sealing class. She'd been clearly preoccupied the entire session, often looking at him with an expression that tended to bounce between apprehensive and calculating. He simply continued on as normal, chuckling inwardly at the hint of irritation he could see creeping into the girl's eyes. As the students filed out, he stood at his desk calmly tidying up and gathering his notes for the evening. Once it was just the two of them left, he heard her footsteps approaching his desk, and finally looked up and acknowledged her presence. "Something I can help you with, Ms. Granger?" he asked with the same studiedly innocent look he'd perfected as a mischievous Academy student.

The first-year huffed, before schooling her irritated pout into something more neutrally respectful as Iruka held back another chuckle. "I was hoping to speak with you about Tuesday night..."

"Did you really move like that? How? What else can you do? Can I learn? Will you teach me?" Iruka fired the questions at her in rapid sequence, before grinning broadly at her expression of naked shock slowly morphing towards one of mild offense. "Really, Ms. Granger, it wasn't that hard to figure out what you wanted to ask. In answer to those questions: Yes, by using a technique from my homeland, quite a few things, most likely, and if I get permission from your parents."

He was glad to see his estimate of her intelligence borne out as she was clearly working through the conversation in her mind, matching answers to questions. "I'll send them an owl tomorrow morning," she nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus does Iruka begin to gather students.
> 
> In response to a reviewer (again, on FFnet) that felt killing the troll would be safer than fleeing it, there are a few concerns with fighting the troll: First and foremost, Iruka has never fought a troll before, and knows very little about them, which means he doesn't know exactly how tough its flesh and bones are, or how long it'll take to die if killed; there's every chance that the fight would drag on, and the longer it went the greater the chances of Hermione getting hurt. Second, the person he's protecting is an untrained civilian, and thus unpredictable; if Hermione ran out at the wrong time, she could compromise them both. Third, the fact that he has to protect someone means that he'd have to fight more aggressively and take greater risks. Fourth (and related to the first), he doesn't know how long the troll would continue to be dangerous after suffering a mortal injury; many creatures (especially those with simpler nervous systems) can continue to act (albeit in an uncoordinated way) for at least a few seconds after their deaths, meaning that even a killing blow might not put the troll down immediately.
> 
> By contrast, he saw that he could easily outrun the troll once he got past it, and saw a fairly safe way to get past. With the troll already mid-swing, its chances of effectively attacking the place its club just was are somewhere between jack and squat, especially given how slow on the uptake it was. Iruka and Hermione were ten meters down the hall and retreating fast by the time it even noticed its targets were gone. He got Hermione out of the dangerous situation by the most expedient route he saw, without risking the unknown.


	6. Game On

Iruka was sitting in his office, adding the latest updates to his increasingly long report. He'd first begun writing a log of the events surrounding his unexpected trip, and his observations at his destination, a few days after Pandora Lovegood's recovery. There were actually two versions: One was written in a cipher used by the allied forces during the Fourth Great War, designed to act as something of a primer on this new world/nation/society in case any other ninja ended up here after Iruka either made it home or died. The other, encrypted more deeply in a code he only had clearance to know because of his administrative work in Konoha's government, was far more thorough. It contained a complete record of his experiences and observations, as well as his research and the theories he'd come up with regarding the relationship between magic and chakra. Both versions were kept in storage scrolls, along with stacks of books and other items obtained locally (beginning with instructional materials for learning English). While there was no telling if either report would ever reach a fellow shinobi, he owed it to anyone that might follow in the future to leave a record for them, and to Konoha to tell them everything he reasonably could.

Given the arrangements Iruka had made with Madam Longbottom the previous day, it was no surprise to the chuunin when he heard a timid knock on his office door during the first years' free period on Friday afternoon. Sealing up and setting aside his work, he called for his visitor to enter. His expectations were confirmed as Neville Longbottom hesitantly stepped through the door.

"My Gran - that is, Madam Longbottom - owled me that I should come and talk to you this afternoon, Professor." The first-year was clearly uncertain as to the _reason_ behind his grandmother's instruction, and equally clearly did not expect that reason to be good for him.

Iruka smiled warmly, trying to reassure his somewhat frightened student, and waved towards the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, take a seat." After Neville complied, he stepped around to the other chair and summoned over the tea set, pouring each of them a cup. "I spoke to her yesterday because I wanted to get her permission to teach you some things beyond the Sealing Arts. Outside of Professor Sprout (who has nothing but praise for your work in herbology), the other staff said that you've been struggling a bit with their classes." Neville's face fell at this, and his gaze turned towards the bottom of his teacup. "Personally, I think that you have a lot of potential, and that what I have to teach you should help you better realize that potential." Now the young Gryffindor's eyes snapped to his teacher's, showing a riot of emotion and clearly searching for signs of sarcasm or deceit.

"You've been told so many times that you're a squib, or at best a weak wizard, that some part of you has started to believe it. Magic is heavily influenced by our emotions, our focus, our will, and our belief. The more you believe, the more you _know_ that your spell is going to work, the better the chances are that it _will_ work. I suspect that the damage done to your self-confidence may be one of the biggest things getting in your way, but I'm hoping that learning something new, something that almost nobody else in Britain can do, will help you realize how capable you really are. Learning additional ways to protect yourself won't hurt, either. Some of the exercises I plan to teach you will also help boost your memory and your ability to focus in difficult conditions. On top of all that, I can't be totally sure, but I strongly suspect that some of the exercises will help grow your magical strength." He didn't think Neville would yet appreciate the added confidence boost that could come a few years down the line when the physical component of the exercises (or rather the physique they produced) would likely start drawing appreciative looks from his schoolmates.

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The rest of Neville's visit had gone much like Harry's had. Neville had required slightly more explanation of Iruka's otherworldly origins (offered up as a token of trust, to encourage the boy to eventually open up in return), and while he had shown greater difficulty in beginning the meditation exercise, seemed far more comfortable once he reached his meditative state.

Two down, one to go.

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Anyone that bothered to look could see that Harry Potter was very obviously nervous at breakfast on Saturday. Iruka could only assume that this was due to the fact that his first ever Quidditch game would be taking place in a few hours. As much as he loved flying, Harry had confessed, the thought of having to perform in front of so many people was more than a little terrifying. This was one place where Harry was the complete opposite of Naruto: Where the latter had been ignored and thus done anything and everything to get attention, the former had been conditioned to associate drawing attention with being punished and thus avoided the spotlight as much as possible (which at Hogwarts was unfortunately little, given his celebrity status). Still, the young wizard had commented, at least with Quidditch any praise would be for _his_ deeds, rather than his parents' sacrifice.

At the game itself, Iruka elected to sit with the other teachers in attendance. He was seated between Babs and Pomona Sprout and behind Filius Flitwick, with Minerva busy in the commentator's box riding herd on Lee Jordan (a friend of the Weasley twins, and nearly their equal in mischief). Charlie Weasley had explained the rules of the game while teaching him to fly, but this would be the first time the shinobi would get to see the game actually played. Now he was engaged in a discussion with those around him on whether the point value of the Golden Snitch should be adjusted up or down based on the level of play (something Pomona favored), or perhaps based at least in part on the points the successful Seeker's team had already scored (the position taken by Filius and by Septima Vector). Iruka was just advocating for the team captains to negotiate or bid on the Snitch's value before each game based on their assessments of the two teams when Mr. Jordan announced the entry of the teams.

The Slytherin team's strategy left Iruka distinctly unimpressed; it was neither ambitious nor cunning to rely on large players, brute force, and dirty play rather than actual skill, talent, and strategy. Gryffindor, on the other hand, was far more impressive: Their Keeper was a veteran player with a lot of skill, their Chasers were both talented and well-coordinated, and the Weasley Twins seemed to function as a single person in two places. As for Harry, from the moment he kicked off the ground even Iruka's inexperienced eye could tell how effortless his flying was, and how totally at home the boy was in the air. Lee Jordan, meanwhile, continued to provide a colorful play-by-play while attempting to drive his Head of House to distraction and getting more than a few chuckles from those spectators not wearing Slytherin green. Overall, the chuunin felt that the gameplay was interesting but he wondered if there were any real safeguards against the rather obvious dangers of high-speed impacts and long falls.

Shortly after a particularly shameless foul against Harry by Slytherin's captain, Iruka felt a spike of sakki from behind him on his left, strong enough to put him instantly on high alert. A surreptitious glance around identified the source as Professor Quirrell, but judging by the turbaned man's skyward gaze, its target was one of the players. _Which_ player was soon made clear as Harry's broom began to jerk and buck wildly, as if trying to throw him off. At the height his student was flying, Iruka knew that even most ninja wouldn't survive that drop. Even as he watched, his mind racing, the broom weaved and zigzagged its way higher and higher, its movements becoming increasingly violent as it went. Another longer glance at Quirrell showed that he was staring fixedly at Harry, and Iruka realized that the man wasn't blinking - this gave him an idea.

Hiding his hands in his lap, Iruka flashed through a series of hand signs while molding water-natured chakra. Soon, tendrils of mist began to fill the stands as his _kirigakure no jutsu_ took hold. He hoped he was right in his guess that Quirrell needed unbroken eye contact to maintain his attack.

Just as the mist started seriously thickening, however, a sharp gust of wind blasted it away. Iruka looked around for the source, but at least half the adults around him had their wands out by now. He could only presume that one of them wanted to keep their view of the pitch clear in case they needed to try and save Harry from a fall. Redoubling his efforts, Iruka poured his chakra into the jutsu, coalescing the mist again, this time at a speed that was blatantly unnatural. Despite his efforts to break Quirrell's line of sight, the wind arose again and dispersed his mist. While he didn't want to draw the clearly murderous professor's attention just yet, nor show more of his abilities than was necessary, the ninja was rapidly reaching the point of taking more overt action.

It was as he was gathering his chakra for his strongest disorientating genjutsu that Iruka saw Quirrell suddenly pitch forward into the next row of seats, before Professor Snape's robes suddenly caught fire. Spotting a small figure with bushy brown hair scooping blue flames into a jar, he knew that his upcoming discussion with Ms. Granger would be _interesting_.

Gazing up once more showed that Harry's broom was back to normal, and he was now entering into a steep dive that ended as he tumbled off his broom onto the pitch, looking as if he were about to be sick. What emerged from the young Gryffindor's mouth, however, was a small golden ball, which was promptly held up in triumph. Iruka found himself raising his opinion of the boy once again: If he was able to resume play that quickly and effectively so soon after nearly suffering a fatal mishap, his focus and determination had to be impressive indeed.

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After confirming that Harry was unharmed, Iruka made his way to the Headmaster's office as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself or appearing to hurry.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," he began as soon as he had confirmed they were alone in the room, "I strongly suspect that Professor Quirrell just made an attempt on Harry Potter's life."

To an untrained civilian, Dumbledore's response would have shown mild surprise and little else. Iruka could see that behind that mask, the man's mind was working full-speed. "May I enquire as to what happened, and why you believe Quirinus to be responsible?"

With a grim nod, Iruka assumed a parade-rest stance before reporting. "While watching today's Quidditch match from the teachers' box, I sensed an alarming spike of..." he frowned. "There is no direct English translation. We call it 'sakki' - you could translate it as 'bloodlust', 'intent to kill', 'murderous intent', or something along those lines. It isn't hate, more the emotion of a predator focused on killing its prey, though the two emotions can certainly occur together."

"Regardless, I sensed an intense amount of sakki from nearby, and found that it seemed to be coming from Professor Quirrell, who was staring at Mr. Potter. Within seconds, Mr. Potter's broom began to malfunction, its movements becoming increasingly erratic and violent, as if it were trying to throw him off. Given how high above the pitch he had been flying, and the fact that the broom began to ascend further during this event, an unchecked fall would have almost certainly been fatal."

"Noticing that Quirrell was maintaining unblinking eye contact with his target," Iruka continued, "I attempted to break his line of sight using a technique from my homeland to call up a dense fog. Unfortunately, another presumably well-meaning member of staff repeatedly used a wind spell to disperse my mist. I was just considering taking more direct and overt action when a third party intervened, knocking Quirrell over and disrupting his attack. As soon as this occurred, Mr. Potter's broom returned to normal, and he was able to catch the Snitch and end the game in his team's favor, returning to the relative safety of the ground in the process."

Headmaster Dumbledore was silent for several moments, clearly mulling over Iruka's account. "I had already begun to suspect that all was not right with Quirinus," he said finally, "after the events of Tuesday night. It was most strange for him to flee in terror from a troll, as he had previously shown a great deal of talent at handling the creatures. A lone troll should have been no trouble for him to direct in a safe direction, and yet he ran screaming into the Great Hall. With your report of today's events, I am now certain that Quirinus has malicious intentions, and given whom he targeted today, his sympathies likely lie with those of a Darker persuasion. Our problem now is _proof_ ; without it, we cannot hope to see Quirinus incarcerated or otherwise rendered harmless, but we currently have no more than our own experiences and some deeply suspicious occurrences. Were we to attempt to remove him at this juncture, he would undoubtedly be found innocent of any wrongdoing, and would return warier, angrier, and possibly more desperate - things that would make the task of stopping him more difficult while greatly increasing the potential danger to our students. Much as it pains me, I am afraid that for now we shall have to pretend ignorance while remaining subtly watchful. I would ask you to continue to monitor the situation, but refrain from acting openly against Quirinus unless he poses an immediate threat. For anything else, report to me as quickly as you can without arousing suspicion. I too will keep watch over him as my duties allow, as will certain others, and with luck we will soon have the proof that we need to thwart whatever nefarious plans he may have and ensure that he no longer poses a threat to the innocent."

At Iruka's answering nod, the Headmaster smiled brightly. "Excellent! And while we the subject of Tuesday evening is raised, I feel that I should thank you, both for retrieving Ms. Granger and for your decisive action in preventing me from making a rather dangerous mistake. My ill-considered instructions were based on longstanding Hogwarts emergency protocols, which call for securing the students inside their Houses, but which I have now amended to account for situations in which it would be wiser to guard the students at their current location. You may well have saved student lives, both that night and during potential future incidents."

Iruka relaxed at this, and returned a small smile of his own. "Thank you, Headmaster. All schools in Konoha have comparable emergency protocols, and we staff are trained to carry them out efficiently and safely. We also conduct occasional emergency drills, simulating various forms of emergency in order to teach the students how to respond. Perhaps similar drills could be designed for Hogwarts?"

Professor Dumbledore's grin grew even wider. "It would certainly make directing the students easier during an emergency if they already had some idea of what to do. I shall raise the matter at the next staff meeting, and hope we may prevail upon your experience to help the rest of us design these drills and a plan for conducting them. Such policy changes are thankfully the purview of Hogwarts' staff, and do not require input nor approval from the Board of Governors; as with any such body, one can be certain of encountering objections to even the most obviously sensible of proposals."

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After Professor Umino left, Albus again reflected on the traveler. His bearing while delivering his report was again clearly military, once more suggesting experience as a professional soldier. Albus was beginning to suspect that this 'academy' at which the man had previously taught was a military training school. Also, although he was reasonably certain that everything the Professor had said was accurate, there were also clear omissions and evasions woven into his account: He had mentioned a 'technique' from his homeland, but had not elaborated, and whatever it was didn't particularly sound like one of his seals; he also didn't identify the "third party" whose intervention resolved the situation. Once more it seemed as if every answer about the visiting Seals teacher simply led to more questions - a mystery Albus would be quite enjoying were it not for the fact that it was intertwined with another matter that was endangering his students...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, given that the students are all sequestered in the Great Hall two years later, it's likely that the policy change Dumbledore is crediting Iruka for inspiring would have happened anyway, but they certainly don't know that. I probably won't be showing the staff meeting where they plan out the new emergency policies or any of the emergency drills, since to be honest they'd be fairly boring and not advance the plot or characters any.


	7. Sensei

Given her eager and inquisitive nature, the arrival of Hermione Granger at his door that afternoon didn't come as much surprise to Iruka, who beckoned the girl into his office with a smile. "Welcome, Ms. Granger. Before we begin, I'd like to give ten points to Gryffindor for assisting a Professor. It would have been more and earlier, but I don't know whether the point assignments are recorded anywhere, and I don't want Quirrell finding out that it was you who thwarted his attempt on Mr. Potter's life this morning."

The first-year added shock to her existing expression of confusion. "Professor Quirrell? But I thought Professor Snape..."

"Ah, you thought he was the one responsible? That _would_ explain why you set him on fire." Iruka grinned wryly. "I'd been thinking he was a target of opportunity or intended as a diversion of some kind. No, Quirrell was the only one there putting out any sakki, or murderous intent, and it was as soon as you knocked him over that the trouble stopped. I had been trying to block his line of sight using mist, but a well-intentioned colleague kept dispersing it before it completely formed. Your actions saved me from having to act more openly and revealing more than I would have liked, so thank you for that. Anyway, I'm guessing you got a favorable response from your parents?"

His student responded by numbly holding out a folded sheet of paper while wearing a similar stunned and bewildered expression to those experiencing **YOUTH!** for the first time. "I got my parents' reply this morning," she said quietly, "and they've given their permission to take lessons from you." Iruka found the paper to be a handwritten note from her parents granting permission for their daughter to take supplementary lessons on his native magics, with the understanding that nothing in the lessons would be harmful, dangerous, or age-inappropriate.

With a satisfied nod, the displaced ninja dropped the note into a desk drawer. "Excellent. Would you like to begin now?" Her rapid nodding drew an amused smile. "Why don't you have a seat, then? I'll make us some fresh tea while we talk." Knowing that his newest student would prefer a more structured environment, he chose to remain behind his desk for now, rather than focusing on approachability as he had with Harry and Neville.

"Now, I'm guessing that your first questions are about how I moved the way I did Tuesday night. The people of my homeland know how to use an energy we call 'chakra', which from my research seems to be related to magic but also different. One of those differences is in how we use the two energies."

"With magic, it's mostly used in wand-based spells, such as charms and transfigurations, and generally aimed at something external. With chakra, much of how we use it is internal, or at least very close to our bodies. As you saw, it can be used to greatly boost one's speed, strength, agility, and reflexes; it also can improve senses and resistance to injury. When I was running on the walls and ceiling, it was by gathering a carefully-balanced amount of chakra in the soles of my feet to be able to stand somewhere that wouldn't normally be possible. And, of course, it's all wandless, though some people do use tools or foci for specific things. There are other things that chakra can be used for, such as the mist this morning, but we'll be focusing mostly on self-application."

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After a brief bit of discussion of chakra theory (reassuring Hermione that they'd cover the topic in greater depth later), they moved on to the meditation exercises. Hermione had a great deal of difficulty entering and maintaining a meditative state - her mind was too active to easily quiet her thoughts. It was going to be a work-in-progress, though Iruka suspected that once she mastered the early steps, the later ones would come much more quickly and easily given her already-disciplined mind.

During the chat that followed the meditation lesson, he decided to broach a more difficult topic. "I had already been planning to speak to you about this, or ask Professor McGonagall to do it, but Tuesday's incident changed the timetable a bit. You've probably already realized this somewhat, but your behavior has been alienating your fellow students somewhat." The girl's expression showed shock, hurt, and at least a hint of betrayal. She opened her mouth to respond but Iruka held up a hand to forestall her. "We both know that it's not intentional on your part, and that you're trying your hardest, but you need to understand how some of your actions and words come across to your peers."

"For starters, there's your academic success. I would never tell you to slack off in your classes; any teacher worth the title should encourage their students to reach as far as they can. However, I'm sure you can see how other students are going to be jealous of your talents, the same way they're jealous of their peers who are more popular than they are, better at Quidditch, better looking, or in any other way more successful in something. That's just human nature - nothing anyone can do will change it. What we _can_ do is change how we handle our own success. Think of the fellow student you've found yourself most resenting, either here or at a previous school. Would you even consider describing them as 'humble'?" At Hermione's scowl and vigorous head-shake, he continued. "I'm betting that they were rich, or popular, or something along those lines?" A nod. "Now think of other students that share the same type of success, and think of the ones you don't dislike. Compare them. What's the big difference?"

After a few moments' though, Hermione responded. "They don't strut around, or sneer at other people. The likeable students are humble; the unlikeable ones are arrogant or conceited."

Iruka smiled proudly at his student. "Exactly. They _have_ their successes, but they don't flaunt them or rub them in other people's faces. Now, look at your own behavior as it relates to your academic success. Do you answer questions when asked, offer other people your knowledge, or spout information without prompting? Do you ever criticize others for not living up to your academic standards? Do you give others a chance to show their own intelligence?" He paused to allow her to ponder his questions. The look of concentration on her face gradually became more of a frown, as she was clearly not liking the answers that she was finding.

"I spoke to Professor Flitwick about the Charms class that prompted Mr. Weasley's rude comments, and while his words were inappropriate, you need to understand the mistake you made as well. When he was having trouble with the Levitation Charm, you didn't say 'would you like some help', but instead something closer to 'you're doing it wrong'. It may not have been deliberate, but you were definitely insulting and somewhat arrogant in your attitude."

"Your professors have also noted that your essays are often much longer than what was assigned. Going a bit over is fine, as long as what you've written is relevant and not padded, but constantly overshooting by a wide margin can be a problem. Remember, the professors you're handing these to have to grade dozens of essays; even if you impress them with your knowledge, they won't appreciate having to spend half again as much time reading your work as any of your classmates. Reciting facts by rote will get you by, but what they're really looking for is your _understanding_ of the material. For another thing, consider how it looks to other students: They work hard just to make the required length, and you're visibly and blatantly outstripping their efforts. To them, it could look like you're showing off."

"Again, I'm not telling you to give less than your best effort, but try to change the way you do it. When a professor asks a question in class, give other students a chance to answer before you raise your hand. Go ahead and offer your help sometimes when someone is struggling, but be patient with people that don't grasp things as quickly as you do. If your essay is much longer than requested, especially if it's over a stated maximum length, look it over and ask whether everything you've written is really relevant. Try and condense what you've written down to its' essential points; it will impress the professor more if you can show a greater depth of understanding and draw conclusions on your own."

Hermione was staring at him with rapt attention, and her hands twitched slightly, as if wishing for some sort of writing materials to take notes.

"There's a lot of world outside your books, Ms. Granger. Make sure that you look up from the books now and then, and see the world around you. Also, always remember this very important fact: Books are written by people. People can make mistakes, they can omit facts, they can have biases, and they can lie. If a wizard writes a book about magical history, chances are that book will paint wizards from their country in the best light. This doesn't mean that books are worthless, just that they're not perfectly correct and complete. If what's written in a book doesn't match reality, chances are it's not reality that's wrong."

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"Okay, it's almost time for dinner, so we should probably wrap this up for today. We can work out a regular meeting time if you'd like to keep having private talks; you wouldn't be the only student I'm working with. For now, you should head down to the Great Hall, and I'd like you to ask Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom to follow you after breakfast tomorrow; I'm hoping we can make a start on the more physical side of training for all three of you. We can all use the room I train in: It's on the seventh floor, by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance. Do you know where that is?" The shake of Hermione's head left him to think for a moment before coming to a decision.

"Flippy!" The house-elf appeared with a muffled crack, startling the girl. "Flippy, this is Hermione Granger, one of the students I'm tutoring. She'll be calling you after lunch, and I'd like you to lead her and her companions up to the Come and Go Room." He turned to his student, who was looking at Flippy with curiosity and a hint of recognition. "Hermione, this is Flippy. Since, judging by your expression, you're not particularly familiar with her kind, I should explain that she's a house-elf. They're symbiotic beings that work in magical places in exchange for room, board, and a bit of magic. Nothing makes them happier than working to take care of people they like, and they're very proud of their work. Don't try to pay them - they consider it an insult - and _never_ try to pass them or offer them any item of clothing, as giving a house-elf clothes is considered somewhere between sacking an employee and disowning a family member. That's why they wear garments made from non-clothing items like towels, pillowcases, curtains, and the like."

"Anyway, after breakfast, call for Flippy. If the three of you can't do training tomorrow morning, just tell her to let me know. Otherwise, she'll show the three of you where to go to find the room we'll be working in. Don't go announcing things to everyone, but don't actively try to hide it either: Hiding our training sessions would imply that we're doing something we shouldn't. If asked about them, tell the truth, or refer the person to me for answers. We're not doing anything wrong, but at the same time I'd still prefer that only people we can trust know about what I can do, especially considering Quirrell's actions today."

"About that, Professor, what's going to happen to Professor Quirrell?" Hermione was clearly struggling with the situation: On the one hand, Quirrell was a Professor and thus a Respectable Authority Figure; on the other, he had just tried to murder a classmate that had the potential to be her friend.

"For the moment," Iruka responded with a slight frown, "I'm afraid the answer is 'nothing'. I and others are aware of the problem, but we don't have any real proof we could present to see him dealt with."

Now her expression shifted to a frown of concentration. "You don't want him realizing you know it was him until you're sure you can get him removed?"

"Removed, arrested, anything that would get him away from students. Today was actually at least the _second_ time he's endangered a student." Iruka told her with a proud smile.

"The second?" He watched as she puzzled over his statement before her eyes widened. "The _troll?!_ " She nearly shrieked the last word.

His smile widened. "Very good. Yes, we're pretty sure he let the troll in, likely to distract attention while he headed for the forbidden corridor. I doubt he was happy when almost everyone ended up staying inside the Great Hall," he commented with a slightly smug smirk, "leaving him no chance to slip away."

"Regardless," Iruka continued, "for the time being you should mostly just keep your head down and try to avoid showing suspicion while taking reasonable precautions: Avoid eye contact until you can repel a passive Legilimency scan; don't let yourself or your friends end up alone with him, or make sure an adult that's in the loop knows about it if you can't avoid it. Right now, the only faculty I know for sure suspect Quirrell are myself and the Headmaster, but I'll let you know about any others. Finally, if something feels wrong, get a member of staff involved, even if they're not 'in the know' - better we tip our hand early than let someone get hurt, after all."

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**V**

Iruka was waiting in the Room when his three pupils arrived and promptly began gaping at the configuration he had set. The door opened into a small vestibule, with a door in each of the side walls near the entrance, marked with simple male and female figures; these doors led to modest shower/changing rooms. Next to these were a small set of cubbyholes on both side walls, one of which currently contained Iruka's teaching robes, socks, and dragon-hide boots, while another held his shinobi sandals. From the wood-floored vestibule was a slight step up onto the padded floor of the main training area.

In terms of footprint, the room was a large oval, even bigger than the Great Hall (and far larger than this part of the castle should have permitted), with a running track marked out all around its edge. The vestibule was set near the left-hand end of one of the straight sides. Inside from the running track in the nearer rounded end of the room was a meter-deep pool of water, while the far end housed a circle of grass-covered earth, from which tall straight-trunked trees reached towards an all-glass ceiling high overhead. A course of low balance beams and other simple obstacles ran most of the room's length, with some of the obstacles set in or on the water or among the trees, and mirrors covered the straight portion of the far wall.

Standing just inside from the vestibule and wearing his full uniform (minus sandals), the chuunin greeted his newest group of pupils. "Welcome to my training room. Through these doors are changing areas, where I've taken the liberty of providing suitable exercise clothes for each of you." He'd gotten their sizes from the house-elves and picked up T-shirts and tracksuits in London. "Hogwarts' school robes are fine for classwork, but they're a bit too restrictive for what we'll be doing. You'll also be able to shower before changing back. Go ahead and get changed now - you can leave your clothes and shoes in either the changing rooms or the cubbyholes, whichever you'd prefer."

A few minutes later the three returned, and Iruka beckoned them up onto the mats. He began with a soft smile, "When we're not in class, you can call me 'Iruka-sensei', or just 'Sensei'. The word 'sensei' means 'teacher' in my language, and it's what all my students back home call me. In return, I'd like to be able to keep calling you by your first names during our talks and training. Anyway, this room is where we'll be doing the more physical side of your training, along with any other group lessons, though individual meetings can certainly continue either regularly or just as-needed. Now, let's get started with a little warm-up..."

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**V**

In deference to his students' relative lack of physical conditioning, Iruka had them alternating between demanding exercise and less strenuous tasks like learning the first Academy kata, or working on their balance, interspersed with occasional rest breaks. It didn't particularly surprise him that Harry handled the calisthenics best, while Neville with his sheltered upbringing was struggling the most. During the first rest break, he gave them a demonstration similar to what he'd shown the Lovegoods, though the taller and more numerous trees and the obstacle course allowed him to show off a bit more than the glen in Devon. Even Hermione, who'd seen how he could move a few days earlier and knew about his mist, was left astonished by things like his water clone. Throughout the training, he watched as the three lonely children began to make the first tentative overtures towards what he hoped would be a beneficial friendship for all three.

While their bodies were being exercised, Iruka fed their minds with some of the basic theory behind chakra, though he also made sure to review it during a break when they were more able to focus. All the while, he kept providing advice and encouragement, often explaining not just _what_ they were doing, but also _why_. Occasionally, he'd even slip in bits about the Elemental Nations - the geography, the culture, the history, and some of his friends and acquaintances back in Konoha - though he focused heavily on the less-violent aspects; they were still underage civilians, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now we see Iruka's current roster of students - three at Hogwarts, with a fourth to join at the start of the next year. A lot of this chapter was Iruka lecturing Hermione, but hopefully we're largely out of the 'lectures' part. Next chapter is much less monologue-y.


	8. Observation

As soon as he had heard of the Disillusionment charm and its effects, Iruka had made certain to master it. What self-respecting shinobi _wouldn't_ want access to such near-perfect camouflage? The only ninjutsu he knew of that served a similar purpose was an Earth-style ninjutsu, one of his weaker affinities, so having a magical analogue was definitely appealing.

It was using this camouflage that had Iruka hidden and observing several of today's History of Magic class sessions, and to put it simply, he was not impressed. Even when discussing historical events that were both pivotal and exciting, Professor Binns simply droned on emotionlessly. How were the students supposed to consider the information important if it was being delivered with such utter bland apathy? It was frankly no wonder that those few students who remained awake through the class mostly did so by completely ignoring their professor and self-studying History or doing work for their other classes. Given the fact that the ghostly teacher couldn't correctly name his students (or, indeed, some of his fellow faculty at staff meetings), Iruka suspected that trying to talk through the problem with him would be an exercise in futility. He'd have to go up the chain of command and speak with Minerva to see if anything could be done, but first, he had another class to observe.

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**V**

Since he was most interested in the first-year Gryffindor/Slytherin session of Potions, Iruka was forced to wait until Friday to carry out his second bit of classroom espionage, though he did make some use of the intervening days to get a look at the dungeon area where the Potions classroom was located, and at least a few looks inside through the door as classes filed in and out. This allowed him to plan his approach, something he felt worth the effort as Professor Snape seemed a bit more observant and wary than average (and far more than Professor Binns). While he'd been able to just slip into the History classroom and hide before the first class arrived, chances were good that the door to the Potions classroom would be kept locked except during classes, and given Severus Snape's temperament, might be warded as well - not something Iruka was equipped to handle. Given the man's reported skill in the Mind Arts, he also didn't want to chance using a genjutsu until he knew how well or poorly they would work on a trained Occlumens.

This all led to Iruka perching, Disillusioned, on the wall above the door to the Potions classroom as the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins gathered (separately) outside on Friday morning. At precisely 0945, the door slammed open and the students began filing in. Taking advantage of both the short height of the students and the poor illumination (not the best idea when making volatile brews, he thought idly) he used chakra adhesion to clamber through the top of the doorway and onto the ceiling of the classroom, timing his move for shortly after Harry entered as his colleague's glare followed the boy. When an opportunity arose as Professor Snape was distracted, he moved silently from the ceiling to the floor, concealing himself in an out-of-the-way corner of the room and taking full advantage of the deep shadows.

Were it not for his commitment to remain hidden through multiple classes, he would have interrupted within the first ten minutes of the 135-minute lesson. Over drinks several years back, Naruto had related stories of how the other Academy instructors had treated him when Iruka wasn't around, and the chuunin had been appalled at the horrific behavior and outright abuse they'd heaped on the young jinchuuriki. Severus Snape made them all look like consummate professionals (well, except for Mizuki, but attempted murder and treason are hard to top). By the half-hour mark, Iruka had to clamp down on his emotions when he noticed the sheen of fear sweat on the pale Slytherin in front of him, a reaction to the increasing amount of sakki he was starting to emit. Even untrained, the blond boy's proximity meant he was getting a heavy enough dose to fray his nerves despite being unable to discern its source. The chuunin's mood wasn't helped when the child tried to throw something into Harry's cauldron, though he was able to foul the throw's aim with a quick-and-dirty burst of focused sakki. Of course, Snape saw the throw, and proceeded to take points from Harry for "tossing ingredients on the floor like a dunderhead".

That first-year class was certainly the nadir of the day, but the other classes still showed that Severus Snape had no business teaching (or even being near) children. He showed no concern for his students' safety or wellbeing, provided little if any real instruction, and blatantly favored Slytherins while bullying and tormenting children from the other three Houses.

Even if he thought that Severus Snape could be persuaded to improve his behavior, Iruka couldn't be confident enough in his own ability to make it through such a discussion without pulling a kunai on the man. He needed to talk with Minerva.

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**V**

"Come in!" Iruka did as he was bid and opened the door to Minerva's office. "Good evening, Iruka," the witch said with a slight smile, "do come in and have a seat." A wave of her wand transfigured the rather Spartan wooden chair in front of her desk into a high-backed armchair, which her guest found to be only slightly more padded than before but still significantly more comfortable. She quickly poured him a cup from her seemingly ever-ready teapot. "So, what brings you to my door at this hour?"

"I have... concerns, I guess, about two of our fellow staff members and their suitability as teachers." Seeing the scowl beginning to develop from his response, Iruka quickly continued. "Professor Binns is the less problematic of the two. His lectures are technically informative, but his apathetic monotone quickly destroys any interest most students might have in the topics being discussed, no matter how important or exciting they might be. I was able to observe a couple of his classes, and most of the students either self-studied, worked on material for their other classes, or simply napped through the entire class, and their professor allowed it all! To be honest, I'd bet that most of what the students learn in that class they learn in spite of its teacher, rather than from or because of him. I'd have spoken to him about this before coming to you, but I get the impression he wouldn't even remember the conversation afterward."

"The situation surrounding Cuthbert is unfortunately rather complex," Minerva frowned, "with a number of factors making it either difficult or inadvisable to remove or replace him. First and simplest is inertia - as the longest-serving member of Hogwarts' faculty, Cuthbert has certain privileges due to seniority, including the requirement that the Board of Governors would need to approve his dismissal. Wizards and witches, at least here in Britain, are deeply disinclined to change anything without strong reasons to do so. Many of those on the Board would take the attitude of 'I had History from Binns and I turned out fine,' particularly those old enough to have had him prior to his death. It would likely take significant convincing to garner enough votes to remove him on that basis alone."

"Secondly, I'm sure that since your arrival in Britain, you've become aware of certain... political divisions?" Iruka nodded. "While such divisions do not make _removing_ Professor Binns more difficult, they make _replacing_ him a rather chancy business. A more active teaching of History could significantly shape the political attitudes of young students for the rest of their lives, and so everyone would want the subject taught in such a way as to indicate the rightness of their own views. Neither the more progressive nor more conservative factions are positioned strongly enough at present to be confident of their ability to push through a replacement they approved of, and so both would rather remain with the unsatisfactory status quo than risk an engaging History course that promotes an opposing ideology."

"And in the meantime," Iruka sighed, "the children's education suffers because the adults can't stop squabbling. I really shouldn't be surprised; people are people and politics is politics, no matter where you are." He gave a defeated and somewhat exhausted shake of his head before refocusing. "Anyway, the other professor that concerns me is Severus Snape..." Minerva's raised hand halted him here.

"I'm certain you have heard many of the same outlandish tales of horror from his dungeon classroom that I have, but they are tales only. The fractious relationship between Slytherin and the other three Houses, combined with Severus's appearance and somewhat caustic nature have caused Hogwarts' already spectacular rumor mill to transform a strict and less-than-personable Professor into something with which to terrify credulous first-years. Surely, as a longtime teacher yourself, you have experienced the tendency of children and teens to exaggerate wildly?"

"Minerva, I know full well how readily most children embellish things, but the ones I spoke to are the type to _downplay_ such incidents. Still, their accounts were pretty unbelievable, so I decided to see for myself. I spent most of today hidden under a Disillusionment charm in the Potions classroom, observing the classes, and found that both students _had_ understated the problem. The first-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class this morning contained some of the most unprofessional and downright odious behavior I've ever seen in a supposed teacher, second only to the time one of my colleagues betrayed our village and tried to _murder_ one of my favorite students, nearly killing me in the process." Iruka proceeded to recount some of the worst abuses he had seen over the course of the day, watching as the normally unflappable woman across from him went from shock to a growing outrage. Finally, he wound down, and the room lapsed into a tense silence for nearly a minute.

"I..." Minerva finally stammered out, "I see. Unfortunately, while I am the final arbiter of student discipline, staff issues fall under the purview of the Headmaster, so it is him you will have to convince, and the Board of Governors might also have a say. Doubly unfortunate is the fact that Lucius Malfoy, the father of the misbehaving Slytherin first-year you described, is both a close associate of Severus Snape and a member of the Board. He would undoubtedly oppose any attempt to dislodge our current Potions 'teacher'." She spat the last word with an angry bite of sarcasm. "Albus, meanwhile, tends to respond to any criticism of the man by stating 'Severus Snape has my complete confidence,' or something similar. In hindsight, it was also Albus who convinced myself and many others on staff that the students' stories were mere tall tales, rather than signs of a very serious problem. Still, perhaps with your observations, we may be able to see some changes made." Here the witch rose, which prompted her guest to follow suit, and both immediately departed for the Headmaster's office.

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**V**

"Minerva, Professor Umino, to what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?" As usual, the Headmaster was seated behind his desk, a welcoming smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

Iruka suspected that neither the smile nor the twinkle would last long.

By far the senior member of staff, and with much fresher anger, Minerva took the lead. "I allowed you to convince me that the students' reports of abusive behavior by Severus Snape were exaggerations and fanciful rumors. Tell me, Albus, did you actually _investigate_ those reports when Pomona, Filius, and I brought them to you, or did you simply dismiss them as I'm beginning to realize you have dismissed so many of our concerns over the years?"

Iruka was right.

After gaping in shock for a moment, Dumbledore rallied. "I can assure you, Minerva, that Severus Snape has my complete confidence..."

Iruka winced.

"So you keep saying," Minerva interrupted her boss, "and yet according to what I have just heard either your confidence in Severus is misplaced or _my_ confidence in _you_ is!"

Iruka made a mental note to never get on Minerva McGonagall's bad side.

Headmaster Dumbledore was clearly reeling from his deputy's unaccustomed hostility. "Perhaps if you were to explain what precisely has so incensed you? I can hardly answer your questions nor your accusations while I am lacking in vital information, such as what you're even talking about." This last bit was said with a stern, irritated, and slightly sarcastic tone.

Iruka had to admit, the man had guts.

"Iruka came to me this evening with concerns about two of our professors. The first was Cuthbert, and I explained the complex and difficult situation surrounding our History Professor. When he then brought up Severus, I was quick to give him the same reassurance that I have offered the scores of students that have come to me in the past ten years with similar concerns: The horror stories about the man are mostly rumor and exaggerated hearsay. Imagine my shock, then, when he informed me that he had surreptitiously observed the Potions classes held today, and personally seen confirmation of many of the worst claims!"

Iruka stepped forward at this point, and began to again describe the events he had witnessed.

After the first few anecdotes (covering about the first twenty minutes of the morning class), a very dismayed-looking Dumbledore held up his hand to halt the recitation. "Rather than hearing these tales secondhand, I would much prefer to observe the events in question myself. Tell me, Professor Umino, have you ever heard of a pensieve?"

Iruka shook his head.

"To put it succinctly, it is a device which permits the storage and review of memories. I would like to ask if you might loan me a copy of your memories of your time observing today's Potions classes, so that I may view them for myself? The extraction process is painless and causes no harm; I would only be taking copies, not removing the memories as is also possible for occasions where one wants to review an event with fresh eyes."

Iruka somewhat nervously gave his agreement.

"Very well. Simply focus on the memories you wish to share; if you know any Occlumency, use it to push them forward. I will place my wand tip at your temple, and draw it away with a copy of the foremost memory, after which you will need to put the next one forward. Let me know when you are ready, and when I've got the last memory."

Iruka closed his eyes and focused, pushed the memories forward, then nodded.

Again and again, he felt the touch of a wand to his temple, each time feeling a strange pulling in his mind as the memory was copied away. After the last iteration, he opened his eyes and stepped back. "I shall begin reviewing these immediately," said the Headmaster, "and if Severus has truly been so badly mistreating his students, I shall make it abundantly clear to him that it will no longer be tolerated. To that end, I must bid you both good evening. Thank you both for bringing this to my attention."

Iruka followed Minerva out.

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It was nearing lunchtime on Saturday by the time Albus had finished reviewing the memories, stopping only for sleep and a quick elf-delivered breakfast in his office. Now, while munching on a similarly expedient lunch, he was left pondering what he had seen.

There was no question that Severus Snape's grudge against James Potter remained as bitter as it was during their Hogwarts years. That Severus would exercise that grudge upon an innocent child was shocking, even without considering that the man had sworn to the woman he professed to love that he would protect the son she died to save. To further compound the problem, it was also clear that while young Harry might be the primary focus of the Slytherin Head's vitriol, most of the students outside the house of snakes were subjected to varying degrees of abuse. Worse still was the clear and callous disregard Severus showed towards his students' safety, not correcting unsafe practices and dangerous errors that he had clearly seen but rather waiting until after mishaps occurred to berate and punish the errant students. He even seemed to be permitting, perhaps _encouraging_ the active sabotage of other students' potions in potentially dangerous ways!

When young Severus had first begun teaching at Hogwarts, there had been a few complaints regarding his conduct. Observation of several of his classes showed that his teaching style was largely acceptable: The newly-minted Professor was harsh and strict, even more so than Minerva, and did admittedly go too far at times in berating his students, but Albus had put it down to his inexperience and his still-raw grief over Lily Potter's death. Given his spy's importance in the eventual defeat of Lord Voldemort, he'd decided to give the man a bit of leeway, though he did privately admonish Severus to moderate his behavior somewhat. From there, the Headmaster's hectic schedule had kept him from conducting further inspections beyond some early checks to ensure that the classroom conditions had improved. He had simply (and erroneously, it now appeared) assumed that the ongoing reports of misconduct had been rumor based on his prior actions and dour attitude. Now, however, it seemed likely that the improvements had been temporary, and that the Potions Professor's misbehavior had escalated over the last decade.

The other staff member involved had not escaped Albus's scrutiny, either. He thought it rather telling that the memories were cleanly cropped to only show the time Professor Umino actually spent within the Potions classroom. It seemed likely that this was deliberate, an attempt perhaps to hide precisely _how_ the man had gotten into and out of the classroom undetected; he would have to check the walls and ceiling in the corridor nearby for footprints to determine if this was another case of the Sealing Arts teacher's extraordinary mobility. More directly puzzling were two incidents during yesterday's first class: In the first, Draco Malfoy showed signs of increasing apprehension as Professor Umino's outrage built; a causal link was made more probable by the fact that when the Professor noticed the boy's distress, he calmed himself and the boy soon relaxed. Not too long thereafter, young Draco attempted to sabotage Harry Potter's potion with a thrown reagent, but fumbled the throw at the last moment showing clear signs of acute terror that subsided fairly quickly. In neither case were Professor Umino's hands near his wand nor out of sight, though in the latter case his attention was clearly focused on the Malfoy scion, leaving no visible indication of _how_ he was able to affect the boy so profoundly without using visible spells or even having eye contact through which a wandless Legilimency connection could be made. Another mysterious ability to consider, it would seem.

At least Albus's confidence in the displaced Professor's motives and character was growing. Thrice now the man had risked the exposure of abilities he clearly wished to conceal, and in each case had been acting in the students' best interests. His proposed changes regarding the third-floor corridor would, had they been feasible, have only increased the security around the Stone, further lessening the probability that he was here coveting the artifact.

Placing the enigmatic traveler to the side for the moment, Albus returned to the matter at hand. If these memories were accurate, his Potions professor was bullying and endangering his students, not to mention undermining Hogwarts' discipline by abusing the House Points system. The latter, at least, could be readily confirmed. Drawing his wand, the Headmaster quickly summoned the master copy of the Book of Discipline, in which all detentions and point assignments and losses were recorded. He took a fresh sheet of parchment and a self-inking quill and set to work tallying Severus's recent activity, separated by House. As he worked, he noted several dubious and a few outright frivolous awards and penalties. After reaching this time last week, Albus felt that he had a reasonably representative sample, and gazed at his results in dismay: Slytherin had been given a wealth of points with only a handful of penalties, while the other three Houses had been heavily penalized with almost no awards of points. Could this pattern be the reason for Slytherin's long streak of House Cup wins?

Albus could feel his anger growing as he pondered the potential consequences of his spy's behavior as a Professor. Cheating Slytherin's way to the House Cup repeatedly and bullying other Houses set a very negative example for the young snakes, teaching them that such behavior was acceptable, encouraged, and beneficial. Couple this with the hostility it likely engendered in the other Houses, and it was likely that the students in green and silver were being pushed strongly towards the Dark, with few or no bonds outside their House to pull them back towards the Light. Abetting misbehavior by these students would only reinforce the poisonous lesson. Should Tom return, this could only ease his recruitment efforts. Conversely, it was likely that Severus's behavior would sour many non-Slytherin students on the entire subject of Potions, depriving their community of candidates for such beneficial occupations as Aurors and Healers. How many otherwise potentially-redeemable souls had already been lost to Darkness? How many children's dreams for their future careers had died in that dungeon classroom?

He couldn't act until he had full confirmation. To that end, he would emulate Professor Umino to a degree: Albus would conceal himself in the Potions classroom under the Cloak of Invisibility, and observe Monday morning's Gryffindor/Slytherin first-year class. Should the memories be proven accurate, there was no question that steps would have to be taken to remedy the problem. Planning those steps would be the Headmaster's task until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus does Iruka begin to show that magic and ninja skills can complement each other. The penultimate scene's odd style was me having a bit of fun - when writing it initially, the second paragraph was phrased differently, but looking at the fourth and sixth gave me the idea to do the entire scene as it came out. I doubt it'll happen again, but I just can't bring myself to pass up obvious opportunities.
> 
> The Book of Discipline is a fanon concept, one of the few that I'm knowingly using for the sake of convenience.
> 
> Regarding Dumbledore and Snape: In this fic, I'm basically having it that Dumbles figured everything was fine and the students were exaggerating, especially since Snape told him so, and never bothered to verify it for himself. He was simply too confident in his own assessment of the man's character and honesty (not that I think Severus Snape actually had much of either) and his hubris combined with his lack of available time (due to holding three positions) to let the problem compound. When students complained at the start of each year, the staff blew them off due to their boss's assurances, which led the children to stop complaining because they figured it was pointless, which in turn led the staff to conclude that there was no problem.
> 
> Sorry to all you Snape fans, but I'm writing him as I see him - a petty, bitter, vindictive bully that enjoys child abuse and endangerment. Even at eleven, he snooped and read Petunia's letter from Dumbledore, then later dismissed her as being only a Muggle. He didn't fall in with a bad crowd at Hogwarts because it was his only safe option, he did it because of their shared interests in power and Dark magic. When a sadistic fellow Junior Death Eater used Dark magic on an innocent schoolmate, he dismissed it as "a laugh". I could go on for a while, but suffice to say that I don't foresee him being particularly heroic in this story.


	9. Surveillance

As he watched the first Potions class on Monday morning - Gryffindor/Slytherin first-years - Albus didn't know whether to be pleased by Professor Umino's honesty and concern for his students or saddened at the truth in his report. When he saw Lucius Malfoy's son preparing to toss a toad liver into Harry Potter's cauldron, he settled on outraged at Severus's encouragement of such behavior among his Slytherins. A casual flick of his wand halted the offending organ in midair, and Albus watched the shock pass over both student and teacher's faces before removing the Cloak of Invisibility and stepping into view.

"Fifty points from Slytherin for endangering fellow students, Mr. Malfoy," he said with none of his usual warmth, "and one week's detention with Mr. Filch." The boy's head had whipped around at Albus's unexpected words, and he was now staring up at the Headmaster with shock tinged with apprehension and a bit of awe. Meeting the young Slytherin's gaze, Albus asked, "And where did you get the idea for such a dangerous prank?" That prompt, combined with a gentle Legilimency probe, showed him a flash of a tutoring session the previous day in which Severus had 'casually' commented on the fact that adding rat liver at this stage of today's potion would cause it to boil over violently, ruining the batch and possibly scalding the brewer.

"Class is dismissed." Three ice-cold words coming from their normally jovial Headmaster had the students quickly packing their possessions and departing the room, some having the presence of mind to extinguish the flames below their cauldrons first. Albus dealt with the rest of the burners with a wave of his wand, and waited for the room to empty of children.

He hated allowing the children to see him like this. Albus Dumbledore wore many faces: The kindly grandfather figure, the wise professor, the elder statesman - all of these were preferable to the face of the seasoned warrior of the Light, the only man Tom Riddle ever openly feared. It pained him beyond words that a number of first-year students now clearly shared at least a bit of that fear. While Tom may have reveled in others' fear, Albus loathed it; fear divided people, engendering hatred and violence instead of understanding, and causing no end of death, destruction, and pain. He had seen first-hand the terrible damage fear could do, and ever since then had worked to promote understanding and forgiveness in order to help prevent fear from taking hold. That Severus's actions had caused him to _spread_ fear instead of fighting it was yet another sin to lay at the man's feet.

Once the door had shut behind the last of the departing first-years, Albus made his way to stand beside the toad liver, still suspended in midair. As he walked, he made sure to apply several locking and privacy charms to the classroom door. Clearly recognizing his employer's intent, Severus rounded his desk and came forward to meet him before the hovering ingredient.

"Before you begin to complain about my harshness with Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you should take a closer look at precisely what he chose to throw into his classmate's potion." Albus's tone was light, almost casual, and only someone accustomed to reading his moods could have detected the underlying hint of steel. Severus's habitual scowl deepened at Albus's words, but he did as he was bid, before his already sallow complexion paled further. "Indeed. It would appear that when instructing young Draco, you neglected to indicate that using the liver of a poisonous creature such as a toad would, in addition to the effects you stated, release a cloud of toxic vapors that could cause permanent sterility in those inhaling them." This too was delivered in the same bland tone one would hear from the Headmaster at a typical staff meeting. He knew that Severus wasn't fooled; the Potions Professor was tense as a coiled spring, clearly aware of Albus's ire and awaiting its expression.

"Over the past decade, ever since you returned to Hogwarts to head your old House," Dumbledore continued, maintaining his calm through the application of considerable willpower, "Minerva, Filius, and Pomona have each brought reports to me of outrageous behavior by their new counterpart. Knowing the tendency of children to embellish and exaggerate their tales, particularly when coupled with Hogwarts' vibrant rumor mill, I reassured them that rumors and tales were what was reaching them. After all, you yourself confirmed this when I asked you, and I understood you to be seeking redemption for your... youthful indiscretions. I had every confidence that you would rise above the darkness in your past to become an exemplary teacher, sharing your knowledge of and passion for Potions with a new generation of students. Considering your experiences, both at home and here at Hogwarts, I was certain that you would be the _last_ teacher to countenance bullying or abuse among students."

"Yet, on Friday evening, two members of staff came to speak with me. It seems that one of them managed to do similarly to myself, and observed your classes that day without your knowledge. Their report of your behavior was so horrendous, so outrageous, that I had to believe it was more overblown rumor... until I witnessed their memories. Even watching in the memories of an adult, I still could not be certain; I still wanted to believe that it was all just some misunderstanding, that the man I had so vociferously defended these past ten years would not so grievously betray my trust. Thus, we come to my presence here today," the Headmaster said, his voice beginning to rise, "wherein I found that not only were your colleague's observations accurate, not only have you been bullying and _abusing_ many of your students, but you have actually _encouraged_ such behavior by students of Slytherin."

To his credit, Severus at least made no futile attempt to deny Albus's accusation, clearly knowing he was caught. He could not deny; nor could he defend, for his actions were indefensible. The only options left to the irascible man were therefore either to submit or to attack. Unsurprisingly, he chose the latter.

"I can only assume that Minerva took the lead in this complaining, as she so often does. Who was the other, then? Flitwick I could see having the skills to enter my classroom undetected, though it's Sprout that always seems to feel the need to coddle her precious little badgers. Merlin forbid anyone administer a bit of discipline to any of the little dunderheads. Regardless, it is no business of theirs how _I_ conduct _my_ lessons, unless we are suddenly to be critiquing each others' work? You know as well as I do that a firm hand is needed to keep the brats in line and showing proper respect..."

"Your definition of 'in line' would seem to need some adjustment," Albus interrupted, "judging by that toad liver. Tell me, how do you think Augusta Longbottom would have reacted if your godson had rendered her grandson sterile and forever ended the Longbottom family line? Lucius may have a silver tongue, and some skill at the Dark Arts, but Augusta is a formidable witch, and she would have been out for blood. Throw in causing similar damage to the last heir of the Potter line, a _national hero_ , and I suspect both you and Lucius would be lucky to escape with your lives; even young Draco might find his bodyguards replaced with Dementors!"

"Potter," Severus spat with a hateful sneer, "it always comes back to precious, perfect, _Potter_. Just like his father, he struts around the castle, expecting us all to bow down before his greatness. Everyone else is so desperate to lionize the arrogant brat; well I'd rather make sure the little _hero_ doesn't get a swelled head."

The Headmaster's frown deepened. "I do not know which student _you_ have been watching, Severus, but in my observations there seems to be very little of James in Harry. I have seen far more of Lily - you _do_ recall the woman you professed to love, and upon whose grave you swore to protect her son? - and occasional glimpses of Fleamont or Euphemia. No, if any child in this class behaves in a way resembling your schoolyard nemesis, it is not Harry Potter." At this, he turned to the floating liver. "The closest analog to a young James Potter is, I would say, in the house of snakes. I seem to recall a report from Horace in 1971 about giving detention to a pair of Gryffindor first-years for attempting to throw rat livers into the potions of a particular Slytherin classmate. Judging by your face, you remember the incident as well."

It was clear that the potions master was still busy swimming an Egyptian river; a more forceful approach would be required. "Rather than overcoming the trials of your youth, it would appear that you have embraced them, allowing your hatred to fester and turn you into a bully. Worse, you are a grown man bullying _children_." Albus steeled himself, hating the wound he knew his next words would inflict, but feeling it was at this point the only hope of making the man see sense. "Just like your father."

Severus's face went chalk-white, before flushing redder than Albus had ever seen before. His voice came out as a dangerous hiss. "How _dare_ you-"

" **I** _ **dare**_ **because it is the** _ **truth**_ **!** " The Grand Sorcerer bellowed angrily, all pretense of civility dropped, as jars of ingredients around the room briefly began to rattle in place from the force of his flaring magic. "You have _bullied_ and _abused_ three quarters of your students, while encouraging the remaining quarter to follow suit and aiding their efforts. You have _endangered_ the children in your care with your willful disregard for common safety protocols. You have undermined discipline across the entire school by deepening the animosity between the Houses, and we are quite fortunate that none of the students save possibly the Weasley twins have noticed that your favoritism has rendered House Points all but irrelevant. I cannot guess how many promising students you have driven away from the subject of Potions with your behavior, how many dreams you have destroyed, how many future Healers and Aurors you have denied a country that will desperately _need_ them should Lord Voldemort return. It is almost without question that you have worsened lives, probably ruined lives, and quite possibly _cost_ lives, all because you cling to your hatred of a man that died a decade ago for his actions as a _child_. No more."

"Effective _immediately_ , you will teach _all_ of your students properly, fairly, and impartially. You will not belittle them. You will not denigrate them. You will not abuse nor endanger them. You will seek to impart the knowledge of Potions to all students to the best of your ability."

"You will administer discipline without regard for house or heritage. No longer will you punish Gryffindors for imagined infractions, nor reward Slytherins for trivialities. If a Slytherin student misbehaves, you _will_ punish them appropriately. You will make it clear to your House that the behavior you have abetted and encouraged these past ten years will no longer be permitted. By all means, be strict in your administration of discipline, but be equally strict to _all_ students."

"I understand that you need to retain your connections to your former comrades, and I am certain that they will question the sudden change. My recommendation would be to tell them the truth - that I had been unaware of your actions, and upon becoming aware, demanded that you modify your behavior. Tell them also that I have threatened dire consequences should your prior actions continue. This will also be true," Albus's voice was barely above a whisper, but as cold and hard and menacing as a dagger at one's throat, "because if I find that you have continued to harm and endanger your students, Hogwarts, and Wizarding Britain by your actions, I will withdraw all of the protection I have granted you. I will conclude that the good you can do as a spy is outweighed by the harm you are causing in your role as a supposed teacher. I will publicly share _all_ I know about your actions during the last war. Being sacked from Hogwarts will be the _least_ of your concerns."

"Your classes for the remainder of this week are canceled, and all detentions assigned to you will be handled by other professors for the same period. Use this time to determine your course of action going forward, and hopefully to prepare for your revised teaching methods." With these parting comments, Albus turned, cancelling the Hover Charm on the liver with a small use of wandless magic and allowing it to drop to the floor with a small splat before drawing his wand to cancel the silencing and locking charms placed on the classroom door on his way out.

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**V**

Iruka found himself to have a trio of very apt and determined pupils. While it was still quite early, all three were beginning to show some results from both their training and their counseling.

Neville Longbottom had shown the most rapid benefit. Between the abrupt end to the professor's invective and the application of some basic calming exercises from the meditation training (at which Neville was clearly outpacing the other two), his Potions work had improved dramatically. He still made mistakes, due mostly to forgetfulness and lack of confidence, but his love of Herbology meant that these mistakes exclusively involved animal or mineral ingredients. It also helped that there were now far fewer attempts to sabotage his work by staff or student. His improved focus was also beginning to help his practical work in Charms, although Transfiguration was still something of a struggle with its reliance on clear visualization. Neville's general lack of fitness, however, left him still struggling to catch up to his peers in the physical portions of Iruka's training.

While Hermione Granger was avidly absorbing every bit of theoretical and historical knowledge Iruka imparted, her highly active mind was still proving a hindrance in achieving a meditative state. It was far from an unusual problem, and Iruka knew that once that hurdle was overcome, the later steps would likely prove far easier to accomplish for the girl with such an ordered mind. Neither Hermione nor her professors had reported any improvements in her learning rate, but she had clearly taken Iruka's admonitions about her overzealousness to heart, and more than one staff member had expressed their gratitude that she was now confining herself to a more reasonable length of essays. The shift from regurgitation to synthesis would take longer, but Iruka suspected that it would end up bearing fruit in her practical work. Where Hermione was showing the greatest immediate benefit, though, was in her social life: By backing off on her aggressive overachieving, her relations with her dormmates had apparently begun to warm slightly. Meanwhile, she had begun tentatively reaching out to the two shy boys with whom she shared Iruka's training, and already he could see the three lonely children forming a bond of friendship.

The greatest difficulty Harry Potter was encountering through his training was actually in maintaining the friendship he had developed with Ronald Weasley at the start of term. Harry's desire to take extra lessons, combined with his developing bonds with Hermione and Neville, left the youngest Weasley boy feeling marginalized and neglected. Meanwhile, Ronald's behavior on Halloween had not impressed his 'best mate'; his hurtful words towards a classmate (and now Harry's friend) verged a little too close to bullying for the tastes of someone that had himself been a victim of it far too often, and the insincerity of the boy's apology that night combined with his attitude since made it clear that he still didn't consider those words unwarranted. The two hadn't broken their friendship off, but there was clearly an element of tension now that hadn't been there before.

Of course, by spending more time in the company of Hermione and Neville, and less with the more lackadaisical Ronald, that led to Harry putting more effort into his schoolwork, and his marks bore this out. He already had a remarkable intuitive aptitude for practical magic, especially Charms and Defense, but was now beginning to pick up a bit more of the theoretical side of things. As far as the physical component of Iruka's training went, Harry's cruel upbringing actually showed some small benefit, as he turned out to possess quite a bit of speed, agility, and endurance in his wiry frame. While Hermione and Neville worked to bring up their stamina and balance, Harry's regimen focused more on building some strength to round out his abilities. Iruka was still worried about the boy's short stature and slight build, but was still trying to convince Harry to go to Madam Pomfrey for a full checkup.

Rather than working to improve his focus and memory as Neville was doing, or quieting an unending stream of thoughts like Hermione, his meditation training revolved around gaining better control over his emotions. It was a work in progress, and Iruka wished that he could get a professional therapist to give his student the help he really needed, but he knew that Harry wasn't ready to trust a strange adult so readily. Besides, Wizarding Britain had an unfortunate lack of mental health experts, and it would likely break a number of laws to bring a non-magical therapist to Hogwarts (he was under no illusions that he could get Harry off school grounds that often without drawing attention from the press, which would _not_ be good).

All in all, each of Iruka's students was making more than satisfactory progress.

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Albus was less satisfied by his progress in surveilling Professor Umino. After the portrait network had reported three students (including Harry Potter) regularly meeting with the Adjunct Professor in private, the Headmaster had quickly placed a well-hidden listening charm in the man's office where the meetings were held. He had listened to a long discussion with Neville Longbottom on a variety of innocuous but sometimes rather personal topics, combined with what sounded like a form of rudimentary Occlumency lesson, before concluding that the long duration and personal nature of such meetings left him with neither the time nor the inclination to constantly monitor them. Consequently, he transferred the output of the charm to his office's portrait of Dilys Derwent, who he trusted would relay any relevant or concerning observations to him. Her reports since them had been that the meetings contained no inappropriate behavior, but that the topics of discussion were often of such nature that she felt her Healer's Oaths compelled her to keep them in confidence. Knowing that his predecessor's character was beyond reproach, Albus allowed her to remain the monitor of the meetings in spite of his desire for more information.

The Headmaster's efforts were also frustrated with regards to the times when the visiting Seals teacher gathered with all three first-years. Oh, he knew where they went; the portrait of Phyllida Spore had described the Room of Requirement (one of the true hidden wonders of Hogwarts, and something he would have to show Filius and Minerva at some point). He had even, on a day when Professor Umino was away from the school, managed to open the version of the room used by the four via the simple method of asking for the same manifestation they visited. It was clearly a training or exercise area of some kind, a fact made clear by the two sets of shower/locker rooms by the entrance, but the arrangement of the room left Albus somewhat baffled as to the precise _nature_ of the exercises for which it was intended. His best guess was that they were related in some way to the man's extraordinary mobility. Irritatingly, it would seem that the 'requirements' used to generate that particular room included privacy, as the monitoring charms Albus had placed during his visit cut off abruptly at the group's next gathering. Attempting to observe the meetings in person seemed too risky at present, given how quickly the Adjunct Professor had detected Alastor at their first interview. At least his monitors outside the Room still worked, but all he could gather was that the trio left together, in a tired but satisfied mood he'd often seen among Quidditch players after practices.

Now the venerable wizard was left to ponder precisely what Iruka Umino's plans were. It put him somewhat at ease to confirm once more with Dilys that nothing she had overheard suggested anything suspicious, inappropriate, or nefarious, but still he worried. Professor Umino might be an unusually weak wizard, but should he turn hostile, his speed and agility would make him an elusive target in a duel. Were his students to gain similar abilities, they could prove quite formidable in the years to come, as all three were above average in their magical strength. Particularly concerning in such a scenario would be young Harry, marked as Tom Riddle's equal... Albus started in his chair. Could this training be Harry's prophesied power? While the Leader of the Light still felt that love would play that critical role, he could not afford to discount out of hand any possibility that presented itself.

Regardless, in spite of his slightly clandestine activities, Professor Umino's motives still appeared to be benevolent. Though Dilys still refused to divulge any details of the conversations she overheard, she expressed a strong approval for the foreign Professor, stating that she suspected these meetings would benefit the students greatly in time, though she also seemed to have become slightly less fond of Albus. He put this last down to having such demands put on her time and being required to eavesdrop on private conversations. Discussion with the children's other teachers indicated that all three had shown noticeable, if not dramatic, improvements in their schoolwork, and all three seemed to share a growing bond of friendship.

Once again, the Headmaster's confidence in Iruka Umino's character seemed to be growing alongside his list of questions about the man...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to those that were hoping to see Snape sacked, but His Greasiness is going to be sticking around. He's too useful for Dumbles to toss him out without at least trying to get him to behave. On the plus side, I hope it's now apparent that this Dumbledore is not Mr. Fanon "we have to constantly forgive everyone for everything and never punish them" - he much prefers the soft touch, but is willing to be strict when needed.


	10. Interlude

* * *

"I've been thinking," Neville commented as they warmed up one Saturday afternoon in early December, "the way we meet regularly for the same activities, this is almost like a club or a small organization, right?"

"I guess," Harry responded, "what about it?"

"Well, it's just that all these other clubs and groups have names or the like. Maybe we should have something to call ourselves? 'You, Hermione, and me' doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, and it could be referring to us as a group of friends rather than this." He waved an arm to indicate the training room. "We should come up with a name for our training group, something that describes it."

Iruka couldn't help but beam with pride. Back in October, Neville wouldn't have dared put forward an opinion or idea of his own without prompting. Already the seed had sprouted - all that remained was to protect and nurture it as it grew into the mighty tree he suspected it could become.

"The name should be truthful," Hermione stated. "I'd feel dirty every time I used it if it was a lie."

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "but it shouldn't be anything suspicious or that would draw too much attention. Nothing that would tell too much about what we're doing."

Hermione pondered for a few moments. "How about 'Visitors and Outsiders to Magic, Investigating and Teaching'?"

Harry and Neville looked skeptical about the name, while Iruka thought it through more closely. "Er, Hermione," he said, "I'm afraid the initials for your idea spell something... less than nice?"

After a moment's thought, Hermione blushed bright red. "I withdraw my suggestion."

Several minutes of brainstorming followed, with occasional ideas thrown around for consideration. Finally, Neville hit upon an idea that everyone agreed was workable: 'Students of the Elemental Nations', or 'S.E.N.' - it was accurate, descriptive, unremarkable, and the acronym didn't sound rude in either English or Japanese.

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**V**

"Iruka-sensei?" Hermione began as the three first-years were enjoying one of their rest / cooldown periods. "Have you ever heard of someone named Nicholas Flamel?"

It was obvious that she was going for her usual tone of curiosity; unfortunately, Iruka was a trained ninja and Hermione was a terrible liar. Her attempt at subtlety also wasn't helped by the way Neville and Harry both stiffened slightly at her question.

"I can't say that I have," Iruka responded, "but then again there are a lot of prominent people in this world that I've never heard of. Why do you ask?"

Hermione hesitated, while Harry and Neville shared a look. Finally, Harry chimed in. "Hagrid mentioned him; he said whatever the three-headed giant dog is guarding in the third-floor corridor is the business of the Headmaster and Nicholas Flamel. Then he refused to explain any further."

Iruka sighed. "Do I even _want_ to know how you ended up in the dangerous, _forbidden_ corridor?"

"We got lost?"

After a Look (a specialized jutsu used by even civilian teachers), the chuunin was treated to a story of Draco Malfoy, a fake midnight duel, and Argus Filch. He couldn't help but note that this made Halloween the _second_ time Ronald Weasley's mouth engaging without his brain had inadvertently placed a student in mortal danger. Iruka could only hope that the boy would learn some maturity and self-control as he grew.

"I'm afraid that until now you actually knew more than I did about what was in that corridor. While I don't know about the rest of the staff, I at least was given only the same vague warnings you were. The giant dog at least explains why the Headmaster said that certain staff members have to be able to access the corridor - the dog would obviously need to be fed, watered, and cleaned up after. If it's standing on a trap door, then you're probably right about it guarding something or someone, though why such a setup is in a _school_ of all places makes no sense to me."

Harry's face took on a thoughtful expression. "When he took me to Diagon Alley, Hagrid said that there was no place more secure than Gringotts, except maybe for Hogwarts. While we were _in_ Gringotts, he stopped at a vault that seemed more heavily protected than mine but only had one thing in it - just some lumpy thing about the size of my fist, wrapped in brown paper. From what I saw in an old Prophet in Hagrid's hut, it sounds like that same vault was broken into later that day. Whatever Hagrid took out for Professor Dumbledore, someone wants it really badly, enough to break into Gringotts for it. The Headmaster must have known someone was after whatever it is, and had it moved to the one place he thought he could protect it better. We just can't figure out _what_ could be that small but worth that much, or _who_ could manage to get in and out of Gringotts without being caught or even spotted." At his last sentence, Hermione's face grew pensive.

Seeing the girl pondering set her teacher's mind running as well. She was likely drawing a connection between the topic of discussion and the staff member she already knew to have nefarious intentions. Iruka hadn't yet told Harry or Neville about Quirrell, and it looked like Hermione had kept the secret. His career as a ninja meant that Iruka was well-acquainted with secrets and need-to-know information; the question here was: Did Harry and Neville need to know? Sharing a secret made it harder to keep, especially when the subject of that secret clearly had an unhealthy interest in one of the recipients of the knowledge. On the other hand, it would make it easier to keep the boys from getting caught alone with the homicidal Defense Professor. Besides, forcing one of his students to keep a secret from the other two was not going to be healthy for their budding friendship. Weighing everything, he figured that Harry would be the only one Quirrell would pay any significant attention to, and the scarred boy's 'upbringing' had left him already well-practiced at hiding his true feelings, so the added risk of discovery would be relatively small. Conversely, the odds of a secret sundering the bonds forming between his students were much higher, and like any Konoha-nin, Iruka understood just how important such bonds were.

"I have my suspicions as far as the 'who'," the chuunin announced, noting Hermione's relief, "and you should probably be told as well, for safety reasons if nothing else, Harry's especially. You remember the broom malfunction at the Quidditch game?" Receiving three nods, he continued. "While I don't have any proof, I am certain that Professor Quirrell was the one responsible. Remember how I've been working to teach you three to detect and resist sakki?" Three more nods. "He started giving off a **lot** of it just before Harry's broom began to act up, and the broom settled the moment Hermione knocked him over on her way to her intended target. The Headmaster also suspects that Quirrell let the troll in on Halloween as a distraction. It seems pretty likely to me that he's after whatever that package was."

Now it was Neville's turn to wear a thoughtful frown. "But could he have actually gotten in and out of Gringotts like that? He doesn't seem particularly powerful, barely even casts spells to demonstrate in class, and he's so scared all the time..."

Iruka gave Neville a small proud smile for his analysis. "I suspect that the fear is an act. How better to avoid suspicion than to seem too meek and helpless to be the culprit? As far as capability, after the Quidditch game I did a bit of checking. While Quirinus Quirrell wasn't noted as being particularly powerful as a student, he did very well on his theoretical work; he's certainly very knowledgeable. Affecting Harry's broom like he did, especially such a brand new top-of-the-line broom, would have taken powerful dark magic. So, while he may still not be that great with a wand, he's clearly got at least a few tricks up his sleeve. One should never underestimate an enemy - it tends to lead to some very nasty surprises." He proceeded to run through the same set of warnings he'd given Hermione after the Quidditch match.

"Anyway," he said once his students had been properly cautioned, "I'll see what I can find about this Flamel. Knowing who he is might tell us what the package is, and knowing that might give us a clearer idea of why Quirrell wants it and what lengths he's likely to be willing to go to for it. The more you know about your enemy, the easier it is to predict their actions, and thus the easier they are to beat."

Hermione's expression had once again returned to what Iruka was beginning to call her 'thinking face' - furrowed brows, narrowed eyes, and a slight frown while worrying her bottom lip. "Iruka-sensei," she asked hesitantly, "were you... _are_ you... a soldier?"

As a trained shinobi, Iruka deliberately did _not_ freeze at the girl's question. "And what led you to such a conclusion?" he hedged.

"Well..." she began, "it's just that you've been referring to Professor Quirrell as an 'enemy', and that got me thinking, and I thought about the way you talk about other things, and the kinds of training you've been giving us, and the things you can do and what they might be used for, plus those clothes you're wearing look like some sort of uniform, and your vest is really stiff and I think it might be armored, and you talk so much about wars and heroes from your world but not much about people that don't fight which means fighting must be important to you, and it all made me think you might be some kind of soldier, or maybe a special policeman." How in the Sage's name did Hermione's tiny twelve-year-old frame fit lungs big enough to get that all out in one breath?

After a slightly exaggerated sigh of defeat, Iruka favored the bushy-haired girl with a proud smile. "You're pretty close. I am a _shinobi_ , a ninja. We mostly serve as peacekeepers or elite law enforcement these days, but before the Great Peace we were also called on as our countries' main military forces. I'd rather not go into too many details on what that involved. The three of you are civilians, and even if you _were_ training as full shinobi, your education would have only touched lightly on the uglier aspects of the work by this age." Noting the confusion building towards shock on especially the faces of Harry and Hermione, he spoke quickly. "Ninja training _has_ to start at a very early age to fully prepare the body, basically shaping the way it grows and develops. That's part of why I've said that you'll probably never reach my level of ability at some of these things, because I spent much of my childhood training my body and my chakra. You'll certainly be able to go farther than someone who tries to start training as an adult."

"Regardless," he continued, "now that you three know a bit about what kind of work I did and trained others for, I won't have to censor my stories quite as much. I'll still be holding some things back: Some of it is classified, some of it is not fit for young ears, and some of it is just plain private. Now," he smiled with a touch of mischief in his eyes, "since you all appear nice and rested, how about a nice long run? While we do our laps, I can tell you about one of the best crops of students I ever taught - students that would one day change the world."

"The question is: Where do I begin? Hmm... how about this?"

"Once upon a time, there lived a fox spirit with nine tails..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to end with that. For those that aren't certain, that last line is the very first line in the official American release of the Naruto manga.
> 
> Also, Hermione really shouldn't be allowed to name things. Like, ever.


	11. Reflection

A discreet inquiry to Pandora and Xeno led Iruka to the identity of Nicholas Flamel, famed alchemist. He was known for his work on discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood (a project in which Headmaster Dumbledore shared the credit), but more tellingly for being the oldest wizard alive thanks to his creation of a Philosopher's Stone, a previously-mythical alchemical product that could permanently transmute base metals into gold and produce an elixir that could vastly extend the drinker's life. Such an artifact could plausibly fit the description of the mysterious package Harry saw Hagrid retrieving from Gringotts, and could easily be classed as one of the most valuable items in the world. Near-unlimited wealth and lifespan would tempt almost anybody, and plenty of people would be willing to go to extreme lengths to get their hands on something like the Stone.

With such a tantalizing prize, there was no chance of Quirrell giving up on his attempts to get hold of it. It was more likely that those attempts would get increasingly brazen as Quirrell became more desperate; that desperation would also increase the threat he posed to the children. Iruka began making plans for what to do in the event that the Defense Professor moved openly and took one or more students hostage to demand the Stone.

There were still too many variables in play to reasonably predict more than the broadest strokes of the man's actions. The biggest remaining unknown was the 'why': Why exactly did Quirinus Quirrell want the Stone? If it was just for wealth, he'd be much less likely to act openly or rashly, but if he or someone he cared for was dying and needed the Elixir of Life, he'd probably get a lot more desperate as the very literal deadline got closer.

Back home, the chuunin would have gone to his superiors to talk about anticipating Quirrell's possible courses of action and preparing contingency plans to deal with them. Here, the only person he knew about that he could ask was Professor Dumbledore, and he didn't think that discussion would go well: Iruka didn't have any information that the Headmaster didn't already have; all he did have were questions, unsolicited advice, and more information than he was probably supposed to know. It would hardly be surprising if Dumbledore was still too suspicious of him to answer his questions - Iruka certainly would be if their positions were reversed - and the Headmaster had a spotty record at best when it came to listening to suggestions. Overall, approaching Professor Dumbledore over this matter now was likely pointless, and probably wouldn't exactly build trust between the two men. That just left continuing on his previous heading: Watch, wait, plan, and prepare.

In the meantime, he'd inform his students about who Flamel was, and what the package likely was, but caution them again about the need to keep things secret, and not speak about anything to do with Quirrell or the Stone outside their training room.

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**V**

Midway through December winter arrived with gusto, coating the castle and grounds with a thick blanket of snow. Even dressed in his warmest clothes, Iruka was glad that his fire affinity made it easier for him to keep his extremities warm. Given the mild climate in Hi no Kuni, the winters in Britain were quite a change for the chuunin, and he made sure to take advantage of the snow for both learning and fun: A variant of standard wall-walking allowed him to walk across the top of the snow leaving little to nothing for prints; he made sure to only practice this in the glen in Devon, for secrecy's sake. At play with Luna, Iruka built a snowman and went sledding down the hill on which the Rook sat; back at Hogwarts, he joined the Weasley twins and a number of other students in building snow forts and engaging in snowball fights (decades of training in projectile throwing meant that Iruka quickly became a coveted teammate). The chuunin teacher couldn't help but think of the wonderful training exercises he could make from snowball fights.

The local holiday was once again spent at the Rook, where Iruka found that the Lovegoods and a number of his colleagues at Hogwarts had quietly conspired to pool their money and gift him with a Nimbus Two-Thousand, one of the top British-made racing brooms. Clearly his enjoyment of flying had become common knowledge. That wasn't really surprising though, given the fact that he tended to join in with some of the students' recreational free-flying sessions and the occasional pickup Quidditch game (he tended to restrain his physical abilities during these, though the school broomsticks he flew were often a major handicap on their own).

After lunch on December 27th, Iruka was surprised by a knock at the door of his quarters. Harry was there, but rather than the expected glow of a child on holiday at a magical school, his expression was distracted, pensive, almost a bit haunted. Figuring that something significant had disturbed his student, Iruka invited the boy in.

"So," he began once the two of them were settled with cups of tea, "what brings you to my door?" Harry seemed hesitant, conflicted. "Something happened while I was away, didn't it?"

That seemed to break through Harry's reluctance. "It started at Christmas: Someone gave me an Invisibility Cloak that used to belong to my dad. I tried it out that night, snuck out after curfew; I just wanted to explore a bit. In an old abandoned classroom, there was this really fancy mirror with strange words on the frame, and when I looked at my reflection in it, I was surrounded by family. My parents were standing behind me, smiling at me. They were proud! It was... it was just so amazing to see them like that, almost like they were alive again. Ron was kinda jealous about the cloak, though - they're really rare and expensive, he said. I've told you how things have been a bit tense between us, so I figured maybe sharing it with him, going out together, showing him my parents, maybe it could help patch things up some? So last night, we both snuck out under the cloak, and I showed him the mirror, but he didn't see my parents, or his family - he saw himself as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, with the House Cup and the Quidditch cup too. He didn't want to stop looking at it, but I wanted to see my family some more, and we sort of argued a bit and almost got caught by Mrs. Norris and Filch. Now today he's telling me to not go back, that he's got a bad feeling about it, but it's my _family_." His voice was plaintive, almost a desperate whine. "I'd never even seen their faces before, and this might be the only chance I ever get to see them. I thought, maybe if you look at the mirror, you'll understand what I'm talking about, or maybe Ron's right and you'll be able to tell me that. I'm just so confused..."

Once his student had trailed off, Iruka took a few moments to fully process his tale before speaking. "Well, let's start at the beginning. Can you tell me what the first mistake you made was?" Harry's only response was a look of puzzlement. "You said 'someone' sent you this cloak. I take it that there was no indication of who sent it?" Harry shook his head. "So you opened a gift package from an unknown sender, and then proceeded to use the gift inside, without having a trusted adult check it over. You do recall your first Quidditch game, yes? Professor Quirrell has already made one attempt on your life. You had no way of knowing if that cloak was truly an heirloom from your father, or whether it was a piece of cloth that had been cursed to hurt you or kill you. Even if you're not showing any obvious ill effects from it, we will still be taking it to the Headmaster to have him check it over for safety." At this point, the boy in front of him was looking more than a bit sheepish at how careless he had been, likely caught up in the combined enthusiasm of what were likely his first real Christmas presents and an apparent connection to his parents. Iruka adopted a reassuring smile before continuing. "In any case, I think we should also have a look at this mirror. Care to show me the way?"

A few minutes later the two stepped into what indeed appeared to be an abandoned classroom. The typical classroom furniture was largely pushed to and/or piled along the walls of the room, but Iruka's eyes were immediately drawn to the mirror propped against one wall: It was tall, at least two and a half meters, with the top of its ornate gilded frame nearly brushing the ceiling while a pair of clawed feet rested on the floor. Across the arched top of the otherwise-rectangular frame were carved the words " _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi._ " Even if the letters were the same as used in local writing, the words themselves didn't match any language Iruka had seen.

Harry moved to step towards the mirror, but Iruka placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him and drawing a look of question. Shaking his head, the chuunin drew his wand, casting what few scanning and detection charms he knew towards the mirror, checking for magical traps. He wasn't sure whether to be surprised or unsurprised that the results were all negative. Releasing Harry, he accompanied the boy to stand in front of the mirror. As they stood there together, all Iruka could see in the mirror was an accurate reflection, including his student's frown of disappointment. "If different people see different things in the mirror, maybe it only activates when there's only one person in front of it?" he suggested. His frown deepening, Harry nodded and reluctantly took a couple of steps to the side.

The moment Harry was out of the reflection Iruka could see, the view changed. He could still see himself, but dressed in his uniform rather than robes. The greater change, however, was the background: It was still a classroom, true, but not an abandoned classroom at Hogwarts - it was _his_ classroom, where he'd taught young genin-in-training for so many years, and it was filled not only with the crop of students he'd been working with at his accident (including a rather sheepish-looking Boruto), but also a sprinkling of British youths like Harry and Luna, all dressed like their Konoha-born peers.

After a few moments of basking in the warm contentment of the view, Iruka forced himself back to reality, throwing in a genjutsu-release for good measure. Based on what Harry had described himself and Ronald Weasley as seeing, it would seem that this mirror somehow reflected not reality, but the viewer's wishes and desires.

Reflected desire! Looking back at the inscription across the frame, Iruka read the letters backwards, stumbling a bit at the strange word breaks. " _'I show not your face but your heart's desire.'_ , it says." Harry blinked in confusion. "Look at the inscription - it's backwards, almost like it's 'mirrored' - this mirror shows us exactly what we most want. For me, that's being back home with my friends and students, _all_ my students;" he added with a pointed look at Harry, causing the boy's suddenly downbeat expression to brighten, "for Ronald, that's matching or surpassing his brothers' achievements; for you, it's being together with the family you've been denied. I suppose it could be useful for motivation or self-discovery, but it's also seriously dangerous. Consider someone like yourself, whose wish is unattainable but powerfully compelling. You could come back here again and again, gazing at the image of happiness, and gradually lose any care for what's going on in the real world, missing classes and Quidditch practice, neglecting your friends and grades, missing sleep and meals, just wasting away. On top of that, even never coming back to it, some people could be seriously hurt emotionally from being teased with a vision of unreachable happiness. Come on, let's go talk to the Headmaster; we'll ask him about your cloak and warn him about this mirror." The two left the room, with Harry still shooting longing glances back at the mirror until Iruka closed and locked the door behind them.

After a stop at the Gryffindor dorms to pick up Harry's cloak and the note that came with it (the wrappings having already been disposed of by the house-elves), teacher and student made their way to the Headmaster's office.

As usual, the call of "Come in!" came just before Iruka's knock. Headmaster Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, apparently in the midst of some paperwork, and smiled warmly at Iruka before his gaze flashed to the first-year beside him that was looking around the office in wide-eyed fascination. "Professor Umino, Mister Potter, what brings you here today? Not getting up to _too_ much mischief, I hope?" His eyes twinkled with merriment.

"A couple of issues, actually, Headmaster," Iruka replied. "First, Mister Potter received an anonymous gift at Christmas. Normally this wouldn't be much concern, but given the incident during that Quidditch match, I'd feel better if you could confirm that the gift is benign."

The Headmaster looked startled. "Would the gift in question happen to be a cloak?" At his guests' nods, he continued. "The Potter Family has long owned that particular invisibility cloak, and James loaned it to me shortly after they went into hiding so that I might study how its magic has so outlasted the typical lifespan of such items. In hindsight, I can see how under the circumstances I should have used a somewhat less suspicious method of returning it. Now, you mentioned two issues?"

"Yes, sir. Mister Potter found a dangerous magical artifact unsecured in a student-accessible room, and brought it to my attention. It is a large mirror that shows an image of something the viewer strongly desires-"

A raised hand from Professor Dumbledore halted Iruka. "Again, it would appear that I am the answer to your conundrum. I had placed the mirror in its current location as a temporary measure while preparing a new home for it. Those preparations should be complete some time tomorrow morning, at which point I will be moving the mirror to a more secure location. I implore you both to not seek the mirror out, no matter what you may have seen in it. It gives neither knowledge nor truth, and men have wasted away before it or been driven mad longing for what they have seen. You were correct in surmising that the Mirror of Erised is dangerous, and I must confess that in hindsight I realize that I should have secured the room containing it through more than mere obscurity; at the time, I had assumed that with the castle mostly empty, the chances of anyone stumbling upon it in the few days it would be there would be minimal. A lesson for me, perhaps, and a lesson for the two of you also, as you would now both be better-prepared should you encounter the Mirror or its like in the future. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. In any case, Professor, I presume that you have already secured the room in which the Mirror is currently kept?" Iruka nodded. "Thank you, and I applaud your caution and prudence in both of the matters that brought you here. Now, I hate to be a poor host, but this school generates a bafflingly prodigious amount of parchmentwork, much of which requires my review, and I am afraid I must return to it. Please, enjoy the rest of your holidays."

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**V**

Back in Iruka's office, teacher and student sat down with tea, something that had become comfortable and familiar to both. For well over a minute, the thoughtful silence was broken only by the faint sounds of sipping. Finally, the teacher spoke.

"We should probably get the simpler matter out of the way first," Iruka began. "I can't really blame you for your lack of caution with the cloak; orphans like us, we grab any connection we can find to our families, and we never willingly let go. Throw in the excitement of the holiday, the cloak being mixed in with other gifts," he chose not to bring up Harry's young age, "and the fact that you don't really have much training or experience in caution and suspicion - I'd be more surprised if you _hadn't_ opened it immediately. Maybe we can go over security protocols for unknown packages at the next group lesson. Until then, if you get any more anonymous packages, or packages where you can't be confident that they were actually sent by who they claim to be from, just remember that there's a dangerous person on the loose that has attacked you once already."

"Now, to the... erumpent in the room." The chuunin teacher had to remember to use the local expression rather than a biju. "You understand that you can't, and more importantly _shouldn't_ , go looking for that mirror again?"

"I get that, I guess. It's just... it's the only place I've ever seen my family. Other than knowing my dad looked like me and my mum had eyes like mine, I didn't even know what they really looked like. People barely even talk about either of them; they say my dad was on the Quidditch team and my mum was brilliant, but nobody talks about what they were like as _people_." Once Harry began his words came as a flood.

"My parents have been dead for three decades," Iruka began solemnly, "and I still miss my father's proud smiles, my mother's warm hugs, their words of love and encouragement... I can imagine at least some of what you must have felt, looking into that mirror, but what you have to remember is that it _wasn't real_. It was an illusion, a _lie_ , designed to show you whatever you most wanted. Even a photograph would be more real - at least then it'd be a recording of a moment that actually happened. Remember that whenever you find yourself tempted to look for the mirror again."

"For now," the chuunin continued, "I'll speak and write to some people, and see if we can't get you some _real_ pictures of your family. While I'm at it, I'll ask those that knew your parents if they can either talk or write to you about them, maybe share some old stories. You deserve more than a few vague comments, and better than the poisonous lies some have told you."

With the pressing business out of the way, discussion moved on to happier topics, like what the two wizards had done over their holidays. Iruka also ended up sharing stories of his own parents for the first time in over ten years.


	12. Dragon

The winter break ended, the students returned, and lessons (of various kinds) resumed. Iruka warned Hermione and Neville about the Mirror of Erised, though neither he nor Harry mentioned what it had shown them. They also explained about Harry's new cloak, which at Iruka's urging he kept with him at all times; invisibility is a good way to get away from a hostile situation, after all, and the cloak did nobody any good sitting at the bottom of Harry's trunk.

Minerva had favored Iruka with a wistful smile when he asked after photos and stories of James and Lily Potter. Between the two of them, they spoke to the other current staff of Hogwarts (minus Filch) that had been there long enough to have seen James and Lily as students, and sent out quite a few owls to former professors and schoolmates. So far, there had only been a trickle of responses, though Hagrid had begun inviting Harry and his friends over much more often to tell tales of the Potters and Longbottoms during their Hogwarts years. Filius and the Headmaster had both stated their desire to help, but needed more time to put their contributions together.

Harry's only other prompt response had been from Professor Emeritus Horace Slughorn, who had taught Potions prior to Professor Snape, and had Lily Evans as part of his so-called 'Slug Club' - a school club he led composed of students he saw as having exceptional potential or influence (according to Minerva, 'Sluggy' liked to act as an influence broker, connecting people in exchange for gifts and favors). Those photos sent by the former Potions Professor were all from past Slug Club meetings and events, and all included at least Slughorn himself as well as a young Lily. Iruka noted that the man's letter was also careful to point out the other important people pictured in each photograph, a reminder of the connections available through him. He advised Harry to stay in contact with Slughorn, but avoid promising anything without running it by an adult first; having a good relationship with someone that well-connected could be useful, while a bad relationship could cause a lot of trouble. As a side effect of that contact, Slughorn had begun writing to Iruka as well, clearly interested in connecting with a person of note (and thus potential importance).

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**V**

It was mid-January, and S.E.N. were going through their usual group lessons in the Come-and-Go Room. "As Hermione figured out a few weeks ago," Iruka spoke, "much of what I'm teaching you is combat-related, even if it can be used for other things as well. Arguably more important than _how_ to fight, though, is _when_ to fight, much of which boils down to _why_. People fight for a lot of different reasons - money, love, power, honor, redemption, hate, and more - they all motivate people to fight. If you even consider fighting, make sure you know _why_ you're going to fight, since that tells you what your goal should be, and what is or isn't worth doing to reach it. For example, in a battle to capture a city, you could certainly kill a lot of enemy soldiers by burning the city to the ground, but you'd have destroyed the very thing you were fighting to gain, so it wouldn't really be much of a victory, would it? There's an old proverb, 'Sacrificing an empire to win a battle is no victory; ending a battle to save an empire is no defeat.' You win a fight, a battle, or a war by achieving whatever goal you were fighting to reach, so having and clearly remembering your goal is vital."

All three children seemed to ponder his words for the better part of a minute, before Hermione spoke up. "Why do _you_ fight, Sensei?"

Talk about your loaded questions... The stock Academy lecture on duty and loyalty to the village wasn't exactly applicable here. Iruka took a few moments to gather his thoughts before responding. "In Konoha, we have a philosophy we call the Will of Fire. There's no single way of describing it, since each person interprets it in their own way, but at its core it's about bonds. It treats the entire village like one big family, all caring for and protecting each other. The Third Hokage felt that this was why our ninja could push themselves to extraordinary lengths. As the Seventh puts it, it's when protecting someone precious to you that you can be truly strong; the Sixth's favorite saying is 'Those who break the rules are trash, but those who abandon their comrades are worse than trash.' Ever since our village was founded, Konoha has looked for its shinobi to care for each other and for the village, and to fight to protect those they care about."

He could see Hermione listening with rapt attention, always absorbing knowledge like a sponge. The boys, though they were still listening, were clearly distracted. Both were likely remembering the fact that their parents had fallen after fighting against Voldemort and his followers for years. In the wake of the Mirror of Erised, Harry had described a recurring nightmare that Iruka suspected might be built at least partly of fragments of memory of Voldemort's attack. Both he and Neville were likely using this discussion to better understand what led their families down that path.

"When you're fighting for yourself, for personal gain, there's only so far you'll be willing to go. If things get to difficult or too painful, you'll give up or look for another way. Fighting for someone precious to you, though..." Memories of the Kyuubi's attack on the village, of Naruto's unorthodox graduation, of Pain's assault flashed through his mind. "Even when you're so tired you're about to drop, when you're so scared you want to cry, when you're so hurt you can barely stand, when you know you're completely outmatched and have no chance - if you're protecting someone or something truly precious to you, you'll keep fighting with everything you have, no matter what."

The quartet's exercises continued in silence for a while after that, all four deep in their own thoughts.

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**V**

A couple of weeks later, Iruka heard of an incident in which Draco Malfoy had cursed Neville in the hallways, locking his legs together. Madam Pince had thankfully had no trouble applying the countercurse when the young Gryffindor hopped his way into her domain, and the incident had been reported to Minerva. Unfortunately, with no witnesses, it was Neville's word against those of Malfoy and his two bodyguards, so no official action could be taken, but both Iruka and Minerva had begun keeping a discreet eye on the pale Slytherin to watch for similar behavior, and he had apparently already lost several House Points for messing around in Transfiguration class. Though Professor Snape had objected, Minerva's sterling reputation for being stern but fair combined with Malfoy's reputation for misbehavior to leave him with little ground to stand on.

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**V**

The next real bit of insanity came at the beginning of April, as a familiar trio of first-years knocked urgently on Iruka's door.

"Hagrid's got a dragon egg in his hut!"

Iruka blinked. "I'm sorry, but I could swear I just heard you say that Hagrid has a _dragon's egg_..."

Harry nodded. "He says he won it off somebody in a card game, and now he's trying to hatch it in his hut."

"His _wooden_ hut?" If he'd been wearing his hitai-ate, Iruka's eyebrows would be hidden by this point.

A round of nods. "Hagrid could get in a lot of trouble if anybody finds out, and that's assuming the dragon doesn't hurt anybody or cause any damage." Hermione was in full rules-lecture mode. "The Headmaster would probably be forced to sack him, and he might even end up arrested!"

Given the gamekeeper's obvious non-human heritage, Iruka would put money on arrest, conviction, and a harsh sentence. Even free, Hagrid would undoubtedly struggle, as he had no wand-use rights and had lived at Hogwarts his entire adult life. With a stained reputation and limited skills, job prospects would be slim for the large, kind man.

Several minutes of not-obviously-hurried walking later, Iruka stood in Hagrid's hut, which was currently trying to imitate a sauna, with three students behind him that would have been much more winded a few months earlier. He could clearly spot the large, black egg in the middle of the blazing hearth; he supposed that a species that breathed flames must incubate its eggs a bit hotter than other reptiles. "Hagrid," he asked the giddy gamekeeper, "where, _how_ did you get that?"

"Down at the Hog's Head, won it at cards a couple nights back. Always wanted a dragon, for years an' years, now I'll be hatchin' one here in my own hut!"

Iruka took a deep breath before continuing; this was going to be one of _those_ conversations. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't dragons breathe fire?"

"Yep, should be quite a sight, eh?"

"You do recall that wood is flammable? Wood including the wooden hut we're standing in?"

Hagrid paused. "Er... Well y'see..."

"I also seem to remember reading that dragons can grow to be several stories tall, and that hatchlings grow very quickly, which begs the question of how long you'd be able to hide this _illegal_ , _fire-breathing_ creature in a _wooden_ building that it will rapidly outgrow?"

There was something mildly disturbing about seeing a middle-aged man well over three meters tall acting like a child caught sneaking sweets. "I didn't think o' that... But what can I do with it now? It'll die 'less somebody takes care of it!"

Iruka wracked his brain for every bit of information he knew about dragons, which unfortunately wasn't much, but something struck him. "Charlie Weasley - I remember hearing he'd gotten a job at a dragon reserve in Romania. We could probably see about sending the egg or the hatchling there or to another reserve, we just need to make sure it's all kept quiet." He thought further. "Here's the story - you won that dragon egg off whoever it was because you knew it belonged in a reserve, and you're taking care of it here until arrangements can be made to get it somewhere it will be safe and legal. We should all be thankful such an _honest_ , _upstanding_ citizen got hold of it - who knows what could have happened if someone less decent had ended up with something so dangerous? I'll go speak with the Headmaster - he should be able to make arrangements to have the egg transferred and make sure there's no trouble over this."

Hagrid beamed at him. "That's awful nice of yeh, Iruka, and a good idea too. Dumbledore'll make sure it's all nice an' legal, and this little one can be with its own kind." He smiled wistfully down at the egg. "Jus' wish I coulda' seen it hatchin', maybe taken care of it for a while, but sooner's better."

After calling Flippy to deliver a quick and discreet message asking the Headmaster to visit Hagrid's hut as soon as he could, Iruka turned back to his host. "So, what kind of person walks around carrying a dragon's egg?"

"Didn't get a good look at the bloke, ter be honest." Hagrid seemed to be thinking hard. "Kept 'is cloak on the whole time, an' the hood up too. Not that unusual at the Hog's Head, ter be honest - yeh get all kinds in there, interesting crowd some nights."

Iruka's alarm bells were now ringing _loudly_ : A mysterious, anonymous stranger just so happens to carry the highly illegal item that would most interest Hagrid into the pub where the friendly (if rather naive) gamekeeper is drinking, and puts it up as a wager over cards? The odds of this being an innocent (or as innocent as dragon smuggling can be) coincidence were so vanishingly small as to be readily ignored. "So, did you just play cards, or did you talk?"

As Hagrid's tale of drinking and discussion followed, the chuunin couldn't help but wince inwardly at how easily the large man had been manipulated into divulging the key to bypassing his protection on the Stone. Then he winced outwardly when he realized that his three students had also heard about the large dog's susceptibility to music. He'd have to remind them to be careful later.

Around this time a polite knocking sounded at the door, and Hagrid soon welcomed Headmaster Dumbledore into his sweltering and increasingly-crowded hut. He showed surprise at the heat, before his eyes locked on the roaring fire and widened slightly at the sight of the egg. "Ah," he addressed Iruka, "I see why you called me here so urgently. Dare I ask, Hagrid, how you came to be in possession of a Norwegian Ridgeback egg?"

The gamekeeper's guests were again treated to a recounting of a night of mead, cards, and talk. Dumbledore asked several more detailed questions, skillfully probing to determine as much as he could about the mysterious stranger and how much information had been leaked. Unfortunately, there simply wasn't much to learn that Iruka didn't already know. As the friendly interrogation wound down, the chuunin described the idea he'd had regarding sending the egg to a reserve and the explanation they could give as to why Hagrid had it in the first place.

The Headmaster smiled proudly at Iruka. "A splendid idea! The explanation you suggest is particularly clever since it is in fact essentially true, even if it requires a certain... _creative_ interpretation of some details. I shall owl my contacts and begin making the necessary arrangements and preparations. In the meantime Hagrid, once certain legalities have been covered, would you object to Professor Kettleburn stopping by to examine the egg? Should time and circumstances permit, perhaps he might even be able to show it to his N.E.W.T.-level Care of Magical Creatures classes?"

Once Professor Dumbledore had received Hagrid's agreement and gratitude, the five guests left for the castle, collectively sighing in relief as they stepped out into the far more comfortable air outside. The Headmaster performed a few quick freshening charms on everyone, to tide them over until they could more properly bathe and change into fresh robes. "I must say, Professor Umino, that you handled that quite well; I take it that these three were the ones to alert you to Hagrid's acquisition?" Iruka nodded. "Well then, each of you take five points for your responsibility and discretion. I should hope that I don't need to ask you all to remain quiet regarding this matter?" All three gave affirming nods. "Excellent. I must also remind you that, even with the information you've overheard today, you should still steer clear of the forbidden corridor. Don't look so surprised - I could tell by your expressions earlier that you are somehow already familiar with Fluffy. I cannot stress enough that that corridor is forbidden, and contains dangers beyond a rather large guard dog. You would all do well to stay well away from it." This time, the nods were distinctly enthusiastic. "Splendid! Then we shall speak on this no more. So tell me, how are you three enjoying your first year here at Hogwarts?"

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**V**

Within a few days the egg had been picked up by a pair of dragon handlers, its eventual destination a Norwegian dragon reserve where the hatchling could live in its natural habitat and among its own species. Hagrid's eyes were suspiciously moist as he gently placed the egg into the handlers' heated carrying case.

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**V**

Iruka stared despondently at the paper in front of him. He'd conferred with Pandora and with his colleagues at Hogwarts, checked and rechecked his arithmentic calculations, and tried every variation and permutation he could think of. It all led to the same result, a result he had spent the past week and a half trying to deny, but now he had to face facts. As Shinobi Maxim #79 stated: 'Deceiving your enemy is often an effective strategy; deceiving your ally is sometimes an unfortunate necessity; deceiving yourself is never a good idea.'

Pandora's concept was workable. If there was any good news, it was that their work had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were on their way to developing a new method of magical fast-transit. Unfortunately, they had also conclusively proven that this method required properly constructed and charged rune circles at both ends. Unless someone back in Konoha somehow managed to craft the exactly correct destination array and charge it with magic, he currently had no means of returning home.

It was ironic in a way, he reflected, that now both his and Harry's visions in the Mirror of Erised were of an impossible dream. Thinking of Harry, though, reminded Iruka of the students he had here in Britain, the friends he had made, and the life he was slowly building for himself. If he couldn't return home, he decided, then he would have to _make_ a home here. Pulling out a quill, inkwell, and parchment, he began drafting a letter to Headmaster Dumbledore to express his interest in making his position at Hogwarts a longer-term one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Sluggy wants to add Iruka as one of his contacts; he's the one bringing a new, previously-unknown magical technique after all. And yes, ninjas share a proverb with Klingons. The Shinobi Maxim is my own addition to The Seventy Maxims of Maximally-Effective Mercenaries by Howard Taylor (author of the webcomic Schlock Mercenary, which is easily one of the best hard-sci-fi space operas I've ever read).


	13. Unicorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underlined text taken from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, by J.K. Rowling

A couple of weeks later, Iruka was just leaving dinner one evening when he overheard Hagrid speaking with Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Another one? Are you certain, Hagrid?"

"Saw the fresh blood before I came in fer dinner, Headmaster. I'm gonna see if I can track it down tonight, help it if I can. Don't suppose there's anybody as could give me a hand?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Regrettably, I can't think of anyone on staff that could be spared, and there are no unassigned detentions at present that could be used to give you student helpers."

At this point Iruka butted in. "Excuse me, Hagrid, did I hear you say you needed help with something?"

"Evenin' Professor; sommat's been attacking the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest. I found one last Wednesday, dead, and tonight it looks like another's been hurt. Like I was tellin' the Headmaster, was hopin' I could find it an' help it, maybe even figure out what's doin' this. I figure it'll go faster if there's more'n one pair of eyes lookin'."

"Something's attacking _unicorns_?" Iruka was shocked. "Not only evil enough to hunt them, but fast enough to actually catch them? What could be doing such a thing?"

Hagrid and Dumbledore both frowned. "Alas," the Headmaster replied, "neither of us have any solid ideas in that regard. All we can do at present is investigate, and hope that we can help the poor creature that's been hurt. I don't suppose you might be free this evening?"

"I'd be happy to help, Headmaster. Hagrid, I'll come down to your hut as soon as I've changed into something a bit better suited to the woods." Iruka gestured down at his teaching robes.

"Smart thinkin' - robes'd be a nightmare in the forest, tanglin' up an' catchin' on everythin'. I'll see yeh in a bit, then."

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**V**

It was surprising how odd it felt to Iruka to be walking openly in his full uniform. Then again, he mused, it had been nearly fifteen years since his last field assignment, so knowingly walking out for what would have easily qualified as at least a C- or B-rank mission back home did feel a bit odd. He did feel a bit tense, not knowing if he might encounter the mysterious predator, nor how dangerous it might be. On the plus side, it was reassuring that he'd stepped up his training after the Quidditch incident; knowing that he might be called upon to protect his students again, he would need to be at the top of his game. He wouldn't be up to fighting a jounin any time soon, but he was still in the best shape he'd been in for at least a decade.

Hagrid approached, carrying a lantern in one hand and a large crossbow in the other, with a quiver full of bolts at his left hip and his dog Fang at his heels. "This way, Professor. Saw the blood earlier, near the edge of the Forest."

As the large gamekeeper led Iruka towards the trees, the chuunin saw silvery drops glistening on the forest floor. "There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least. We're gonna have ter split up; Fang can go with yeh if yeh want help."

"That's all right, Hagrid; the name of my home, Konohagakure, translates as 'Village Hidden in the Leaves' - it's in the middle of a large, dense forest. I've been handling myself in the woods since I was little."

"Righ' then, I'll head off this way, you follow the trail over that way. Send up red sparks if yeh get in trouble, green if yeh find the unicorn." Hagrid looked a bit sheepish. "If I happen ter do either m'self, I'd be thankful if yeh didn't mention it ter anyone."

Iruka nodded, and the two set off into the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's lantern quickly vanishing among the dense trees. After a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, the Leaf ninja continued in. The trees were shorter and closer together than in the forests around Konoha, with more undergrowth and a denser canopy that left the forest dark enough that only someone accustomed to working in such conditions (or trained for it) would be able to function without light. Overall, the forest gave off a somewhat ominous, forbidding vibe, but nothing too bad to someone who'd dealt with Training Ground 44. It did keep Iruka on edge, though, especially given how little he heard of the expected noises of a nighttime forest.

The silence was broken after a time by the sound of approaching hoofbeats, though whatever was coming was remarkably quiet for what sounded like a heavy draft horse. While what emerged from the brush was partly horse, the human-like torso where the horse's neck would normally be marked him as a centaur. He carried a bow, with a quiver of arrows hung from his shoulder, and had pale blond hair and eyes of a bright enough blue to be visible even in the forest gloom. The centaur eyed Iruka with an appraising gaze, clearly trying to take his measure.

Iruka decided to break the silence first. "Good evening; I'm Iruka, Umino Iruka. I teach up at the castle. I'm here helping Hagrid look for the injured unicorn, hopefully to help it or at least figure out what's been attacking them. Have you seen anything that might help?"

"I am Firenze." The centaur gazed upwards, through a break in the canopy. "Mars is bright tonight."

After a bit of silence, Iruka spoke again. "I'm afraid I don't know enough to interpret that. Can you help me find the unicorn, please? It's hurt, possibly badly, and the sooner we find it the better its chances."

Firenze looked at him again, clearly deep in thought. "I will accompany you. Nothing good would so harm a unicorn, and I would not have such foulness in my home."

Iruka nodded and returned to following the wounded unicorn's trail, Firenze following close behind. After a few minutes, the centaur spoke again, though he kept his voice low. "Your steps are sure, yet silent; you know forests well, and you know how to respect them."

"My home is surrounded by forests, and my people spend a lot of time in them." Iruka replied

"Your home..." Firenze looked skyward again, pondering. "It is curious how little the stars speak of you, only as you touch others. Your home must be far away indeed if you were not born beneath these stars."

Iruka clamped down on his reaction of surprise at this; he was definitely going to have to read up on centaurs later.

"There are very few reasons to attack a unicorn, none of them good." The centaur changed topic abruptly. "Umino Iruka, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?" Iruka shook his head, and was given a brief lecture on the monstrous act of drinking unicorn blood.

"Such a curse," Iruka said solemnly, "I think I'd rather die than live such a life. I've heard of people going to monstrous lengths to escape death, but even they generally didn't suffer such consequences. Whatever or whoever is doing this must be horrifyingly desperate if they're willing to endure a curse like that just to stay alive."

"Perhaps," Firenze replied, "or perhaps it is only a stopgap measure; perhaps they are merely stealing enough time to last until they get what they truly want."

A chill ran down Iruka's spine. "Such as something that would restore them fully, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. It is certainly curious that this is happening so close to Hogwarts while the castle hosts such a powerful treasure, is it not?"

Iruka nodded grimly. He'd noticed Quirrell getting increasingly pale and shaky over the past few weeks, but had put it down to stress and fear of discovery, but what if it wasn't? What if Quirrell was dying? On the plus side, they might be able to simply wait out the clock and resolve the situation that way, but with unicorn blood involved, that might not work as well. Besides, fear of death could make a man desperate enough to go to extreme lengths, and it would only add fuel to the fire if his salvation would also lift a horrible curse.

Human and centaur walked in thoughtful silence, following the trail, until eventually they came to a clearing. There, sprawled painfully on the ground, a wounded unicorn shone brilliant white in the moonlight. Iruka could see it breathing, but from how labored those breaths were, it was in a bad way. Drawing his wand, he shot green sparks skyward before turning to Firenze. "Do you know if wizarding healing spells will work on a unicorn?" he asked urgently.

Firenze frowned in contemplation. "It may or it may not, but healing magics, cast with good intent, should be safe. There should be no harm in trying, at the least."

That was good enough. With a nod to Firenze, Iruka moved over to the beautiful beast, and immediately began making use of what he'd learned from Madam Pomfrey. The basic healing charms had almost no effect, though he had no idea whether due to the nonhuman patient or dark magic used to inflict the wounds. Pulling a storage scroll from his vest, he quickly unsealed his medical kit. His first stop was a bottle of Essence of Dittany, which he began applying to the unicorn's most serious wounds; a plume of greenish smoke heralded their partial closure. After some specialized wound-cleaning charms, he then proceeded to begin bandaging the unicorn as best he could. Firenze, seeing this, came and helped by lifting the head or whatever leg Iruka was working on so that he could wrap the bandages properly.

Several minutes of diligent first-aid later, Hagrid pushed his way into the clearing. "Dittany helped some," Iruka reported immediately, "but not completely. I'm hesitant to administer anything else without knowing how a unicorn's system would react to a potion meant for humans."

"Long as it's not Dark or poisoned, it shouldn't do any harm. I reckon healin' potions'd probably work all right, though it migh' take a bigger dose on account o' bein' bigger'n a human." Hagrid had by this point come over to join Iruka and Firenze in tending to the downed unicorn.

Nodding to the gamekeeper, Iruka pulled out two phials of blood-replenishing potion and used a specialized charm (apparently based on Switching and Vanishing spells) to send their contents directly into his patient's stomach. After a few seconds, the unicorn's breathing grew stronger and steadier, and its eye slid open.

Hagrid was there in an instant, gently stroking the beast's neck and crooning soothing words of calm and comfort. Slowly, carefully, he helped the unicorn rise unsteadily to its feet. Iruka made sure to back away, knowing that his shinobi career would most likely make him repellant to a creature so sensitive to purity and innocence. He watched as the gamekeeper and centaur steadied their patient, while continuing to tend it as best they could. Slowly, its steps became firmer, its gait steadier; its strength was clearly starting to return.

A few minutes later, Firenze made his way over to Iruka. "The unicorn will recover, though it will take time. I assume you can make your way back to the castle on your own?" Iruka nodded. "Then you should do so. Hagrid and I will lead this one back to its herd; they will keep it safe as it heals. Safe journeys, teacher of the prophesied child."

He _really_ needed to read up on centaurs.

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

The next morning, at the earliest opportunity, Iruka paid another visit to the Headmaster's office.

"We may have a serious problem," he stated after refusing Dumbledore's customary offer of candy. "A centaur I spoke to last night while helping Hagrid suggested that the attacks on unicorns have been for the sake of drinking their blood. If Quirrell is responsible, and his sickly appearance lately makes that more plausible, that means that he's getting really desperate for the Stone, and specifically for the Elixir of Life. If he just wanted the Stone for money, it wouldn't be as bad, but if he's so desperate to escape death that he's willing to drink unicorn blood, there's a much higher chance that whatever plan he comes up with will seriously endanger or harm the students. If he's pushed far enough, it might even lead him to take children hostage, demanding the Elixir in exchange for their lives."

Headmaster Dumbledore looked solemn. "Troubling news indeed. We shall have to redouble both our vigilance for the students' sake and our efforts to expose Quirinus as the villain in this case. I am curious if you've any ideas in either regard?"

Iruka nodded. "First and foremost, we need some contingency plans. Make our best guesses as to what Quirrell might try, and prepare as best we can to counter him or at least keep the students out of harm's way. I've thought about such things a bit over the last few months, but I can only do so much with my limited knowledge of both magic and Quirrell."

"True, very true. Then again, I clearly didn't know Quirinus as well as I thought; before this year, I would never have believed him capable of such foul deeds. We _must_ get him away from the students, and the sooner the better. The question is _how_..."

Both men descended into thoughtful silence for several moments, before the Headmaster spoke again. "Perhaps, if we were to lay a trap?"

"What are you suggesting, sir?"

"If Quirinus were to be presented with a clear window of opportunity, his desperation would likely compel him to make an attempt on the Stone. While most of the obstacles in place could be overcome by a sufficiently capable individual, I am confident that the final protection is nigh-impregnable. Driven by his need, Quirinus would strive to obtain the Stone, and in so doing would commit provable wrongdoing, allowing us to finally move against him. At the same time, he would undoubtedly be frustrated in his efforts. The gauntlet of protections is windowless, to prevent a thief from simply bypassing a portion of it, but in this case it could also serve to hide any clear signs of the passage of time..."

"He could work at it for hours, maybe, without realizing it." Iruka completed the thought.

"Precisely! And even were he to somehow obtain the Stone, Quirinus would still need to leave again, and would be doing so with stolen property in his possession, again giving due cause to remove him from the castle."

After discussion and refinement, the two agreed on a plan: Headmaster Dumbledore would leave the castle, stating urgent business at the Ministry that would require him to stay overnight in London. Iruka, meanwhile, would conceal himself near the entrance to the forbidden corridor and keep watch. When Quirrell made his move, the chuunin wouldn't act as long as the turbaned teacher was alone; any company would be either an accomplice, a dupe, or a hostage, and either of the latter two would need action to ensure their safety. He would only act to protect innocent victims, or to stop Quirrell if he tried to leave again. An hour or so after curfew, the Headmaster would return to the castle and hopefully catch Quirrell red-handed.

With luck, Quirrell would be gone within a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iruka should really know better than to taunt Murphy like that, even in his head...


	14. Trap

As they had arranged, Headmaster Dumbledore received an owl at dinner that Thursday and left citing urgent Ministry business. He also made sure that Quirrell was well within earshot when he told Professor McGonagall that he'd be gone until at least the next day.

Iruka made sure to draw out his sealing class that evening, keeping Quirrell in his classroom for as long as possible in the hopes that impatience would drive the man to try for the Stone as soon as he was out of sight. Finally, with half an hour before curfew, he dismissed the class. Avid (and semi-secret) students that they were, S.E.N. were seated in the front row, so Iruka could clearly see Harry cringe and grip his forehead during their conversation and emit a slight hiss of pain.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Neville asked his friend.

"Yeah, just a bad headache; feels like somebody stuck a hot knife into my forehead."

"It's probably just the stress of exams," Hermione advised, "you should get some rest."

"It can't be just the exams," Harry replied somewhat testily, "I've been getting these all year, and always in the same place too."

It was then that Iruka noticed that the young Gryffindor was rubbing the exact location of his scar.

His scar...

An icy hand gripped Iruka's heart as he recalled another cursed mark left by a man disturbingly similar to the one that had marked Harry, how that mark had pained those afflicted with it in response to its creator, and how that creator had used it as a way to repeatedly cheat death. It wasn't Quirinus Quirrell that wanted the Elixir of Life, or at least not him alone.

It was Voldemort.

He immediately stepped over to the three and bent down. "I need you three to get Professor McGonagall, right away. Tell her that I need backup in the forbidden corridor, that the thief is making his move tonight and that he is extremely dangerous. Hurry!" His voice was soft enough that the remaining students wouldn't hear it, but it carried as much urgency as Iruka could manage at that volume.

The trio looked at him in shock for a moment, then nodded with looks of resolve on their faces, hurriedly grabbing their possessions as Iruka made his way out of the classroom.

As soon as he was out of sight of others, Iruka sped back to his quarters. A terminally-ill man desperate to escape death was one thing, but if the actual goal was to restore life to a terrorist so fearsome that people still refused to speak his name a decade after his apparent death, watching and waiting was _not_ a good idea. The only option was to stop Quirrell before he could achieve his goal, no matter what. Reaching his rooms, the chuunin shucked his teaching robes in a single fluid motion and immediately began putting on his shinobi gear; there was no way he was going to potentially confront an S-Rank criminal with just the few kunai he had concealed on him. Thankfully he'd checked it all over and laid it out prior to dinner, but still he berated himself for not wearing it all evening. At the time he'd prioritized secrecy, not wanting to arouse Quirrell's suspicions by having large, visible bulges under his teaching robes.

A few minutes later Iruka emerged, fully geared and ready for battle, and headed for the third floor. Opening the door with an Unlocking Charm, he heard three rumbling growls and saw Fluffy glaring at him thrice over. A harp stood nearby; it had probably been charmed to play itself, but if it had that charm had clearly worn off. Casting his dignity aside and calling upon the part of him that stepped on stage after several cups of sake, the Leaf-nin began singing a lullaby that his mother had often used to lull him to sleep so long ago. While his fellow chuunin teachers hadn't exactly given his karaoke performances good reviews, Fluffy was apparently a bit less picky about music. Several minutes of singing later, Iruka was listening to canine snoring in three-part disharmony. Unfortunately, one gigantic paw was lying right across the trapdoor, and he only barely managed to not wake the irascible cerberus as he carefully lifted that paw aside.

Silently shining a _lumos_ down the hole, Iruka couldn't clearly make out the bottom, but it was definitely at least thirty or forty meters away. He really didn't want to risk such a drop, so with a bit of careful maneuvering he clambered onto the ceiling and then the wall of the shaft below, which thankfully was more than wide enough for him to stand upright as he made his way down. Once he was far enough that Fluffy wouldn't be able to reach him, he finally relaxed and stopped singing. Finally low enough to be confident in his landing, Iruka stepped off the wall.

Instead of the hard stone floor Iruka expected to land on, however he found himself in a soft mass of writhing vines that immediately began wrapping around various parts of his body. His first response, simply pulling free, was counterproductive as the tendrils around him tightened. Cutting through with kunai also failed to make any progress as the creepers simply seemed to become more aggressive and more numerous. Worried now, he dropped the kunai and managed to bring his hands together long enough to form a few quick hand seals. A thin stream of liquid fire erupted from his pursed lips, and wherever it landed the vines quickly retreated, soon leaving Iruka free and standing in the midst of a large area of bare floor. Scooping up and re-sheathing his kunai, he made for the passageway that was the room's only other exit.

Hearing only the sounds of dripping water and of the slithering vines behind him, Iruka proceeded silently down the passageway's gentle downward slope, using only the little ambient light to avoid drawing attention from either Quirrell or whatever other guardians awaited. Soon enough, new sounds became noticeable, as did a light ahead; he could hear clinking and rustling noises coming from his destination. It was as he stepped into the lit chamber that he saw their source: Flying overhead was a vast flock of glittering, brilliantly-colored birds. No, not birds, he realized as he looked more carefully - keys! The obvious explanation was that one of those winged keys would be needed to reach the Stone, but which one?

An examination of the door and its lock confirmed that one, it was indeed locked; two, the Unlocking Charm didn't work on it; and three, the matching key was likely large and silver. Unfortunately, trying to pick the correct key out of possibly thousands of candidates when all were rapidly moving around and a good distance away would be near-impossible. Fortunately, the brooms in one corner of the room suggested a means for a closer look (not to mention a clear way to actually _get_ the key). As he chose a broom, Iruka made a note to berate whoever designed this obstacle for providing the brooms and making a would-be thief's job vastly easier, though he'd also thank them for making _his_ job easier as well.

It took quite a few minutes of flying around and through the swarm of key-birds to spot a likely candidate: One of its wings was damaged, many of its blue feathers bent, though this didn't seem to noticeably impair its ability to fly. An aerial chase followed, with the key fleeing faster and more nimbly than the Golden Snitch in the school Quidditch matches. Iruka's shinobi training gave him enough situational awareness to not lose track of the key, and reflexes and agility to put a professional Seeker to shame, but he'd only spent perhaps a hundred or so hours in the air, and his lack of flying experience was definitely working against him. Finally, after a couple minutes of pursuit, he drew a handful of shuriken. Herding the key out to the edge of the swarm to get its brethren out of the way, Iruka sent the steel stars spinning through the air. The key tried to dodge, but one of the edged projectiles managed to score a hit on the already-damaged wing and sent the ersatz bird on a pitiful spiral to the floor.

A quick landing later, Iruka had the key in his hand despite its feeble struggles, and headed for the door. The next chamber was initially pitch-black, but as he stepped in and the torches on the walls flared to life, he couldn't help but groan out the one word that came to mind at the sight revealed before him.

"Mendokusei..."

The entire width of the room in front of him was filled by a gigantic chessboard, its stone pieces all easily over two meters in height. Faceless white chessmen stood facing him at the far edge, another door visible behind them, while he stood just behind black's ranks. "Let me guess," he sighed, "I have to play through?" Several nearby pieces nodded curtly. "I bet I'll have to stand as one of the black pieces, too." More nods. "And if I try to cross without playing?" At this, each of the white pieces took ready stances and drew weapons that were clearly lethally sharp. Considering the speed and fluidity of their movements, he couldn't be certain of his ability to slip past them unharmed. Even if he managed that, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't follow him deeper in, and he did _not_ want to have to deal with sixteen dangerous assailants at the same time as any subsequent obstacles, to say nothing of the deadly opponent waiting somewhere ahead. "All right, I'll stand as the king." At his words, the black king stepped off the board and stood by the wall.

While he was certainly no Nara, Iruka was hardly an idiot. Still, the game was hard-fought, and it was an impatient chuunin that stormed through the far door and had his already dark mood worsened by a familiar stench. Lying on the ground unconscious was a troll even larger than the one at Halloween. At least _this_ obstacle wouldn't slow him down.

Behind the next door was a small room containing nothing more threatening than a small table with an array of bottles lined up across it and a roll of paper beside the bottles. The instant Iruka stepped fully into the room, however, a wall of purple flames erupted blocking the doorway behind him as black flames blocked the door opposite. A quick genjutsu-release confirmed that these oddly-colored flames were likely real, which made the chuunin more than a tad uncomfortable as he recalled the only black flames he'd ever heard of; he could only hope that whatever these were, they weren't as unstoppable or all-consuming. If there were enough water available, he'd have tried overwhelming the flames with suiton, but between conjuring and manipulating that amount of water, he'd end up exhausted - not a good state to be in when expecting a fight.

The paper held a simple logic puzzle in the form of a short poem; comparing it to the bottles (which were all, strangely, completely full) it wasn't hard for Iruka to figure out what should be in which bottle. What worried him was the possibility that Quirrell could have switched bottles around or mixed their contents. He pulled the stoppers on each bottle, sniffing at their contents. They _seemed_ to match what he expected, but there really was only one way to find out for certain.

Ever since he'd read about their curative properties, Iruka had kept at least one bezoar on him at all times, with several kept in one of his vest pouches. He took these out now, laying them on the table in case he or his backup (which he hoped was coming) chose badly wrong, before taking a swig of the potion on the far right. An icy feeling came over him, and a quick check confirmed that the purple flames felt no hotter than a Floo. He grabbed the paper and pulled a pencil from his kit to jot his solution to the riddle next to the poem, hoping to save his backup a bit of time and trouble, before downing the contents of the smallest bottle; again, he felt like he'd been dipped in ice water.

Replacing the bottle (and seeing it already starting to refill somehow), he steeled himself and stepped through the black flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the finest tradition of the Naruto anime, cliffhanger!
> 
> In response to a guest review, I can 100% assure you that ninjas will not be overrunning this story. That is, in fact, part of the point - I want to keep ninja interference to a minimum, focusing instead on Iruka's influence through teaching, supporting, and advising. As far as the students involved, I didn't want to end up populating my story with OCs, and thus have relied as much as possible on canon characters. Unfortunately, JKR didn't really develop many of the side characters all that much, which leaves my options for Iruka's students relatively limited without inventing significant amounts of backstory to justify the inclusion of others. Every student he teaches, he has reasons to begin teaching. Now, if you wanted to do your own version where he picks up some other students that aren't as 'cliche', please just send me a message when you post it so I can see somebody else's take on the concept.


	15. Stone

In the next room, his back to the door, stood Quirinus Quirrell, muttering to himself and looking at his reflection in what Iruka recognized as the Mirror of Erised. The instant Iruka moved towards him, however, Quirrell snapped his fingers and the chuunin found himself suddenly cocooned shoulders-to-ankles in black ropes. "I had hoped that I wouldn't have to dispose of you." The man spoke coldly, firmly, with none of his usual stutter or quiver. "Such new and interesting magics you brought, but I cannot abide interference... or witnesses."

Iruka glared coldly back at his newest treacherous colleague. "What _I_ can't abide is people trying to murder my students."

Quirrell smirked darkly. "Ah, so you noticed my little ploy during the Quidditch game, did you? It was risky, really, far too great a chance of exposure, but we all do what we must. Now, as much as I'd love to engage in some spirited intellectual discourse with you, I _am_ rather busy at the moment." With that, he waved his wand and Iruka found himself unable to make a sound.

As Quirrell's attention returned to the mirror, Iruka immediately tried to free himself. Unfortunately, no matter how he moved, the magically conjured ropes kept him bound tightly, unable to even reach any of his weapons. Wrapped this effectively and comprehensively, he couldn't even Substitute his way out, though given the fact that Quirrell and the Mirror were the only items of appropriate size in the room, that would have qualified as a 'high-risk' strategy anyway.

Iruka watched as the traitorous Defense Professor continued to study the Mirror. He would stare at his reflection, examine various details of the frame, walk around to check the back, and occasionally draw his wand to cast various spells. All the while, he continued to mutter to himself. What had Iruka edging towards panic was when a high, cold voice _answered_. It was looking increasingly certain that the supposedly-late Lord Voldemort was involved; which left an important question: Was this some form of remote communication, or was he in the room somehow?

After many tense minutes of watching Quirrell grow progressively more frustrated, Iruka heard the sound of soft footsteps, far too quiet for the turbaned traitor to hear even if he weren't muttering distractedly. Finally, backup! It was only as they got closer that the chuunin realized that the weight and rhythm of the footfalls weren't those of an adult; given the fact that there was only one student who had reason to come here and the ability to go unseen, it was a pretty safe bet who this was.

Making sure that Quirrell was otherwise occupied, Iruka looked straight at where he sensed his student. 'Run, Harry!' Being silenced, he could only hope that the young Potter could read his lips. Whether he could or not, though, his approach only briefly hesitated. A soft rustling of cloth heralded the appearance of a small hand awkwardly holding a shuriken, which was quickly put to work sawing at the magical bindings. Resigned that he couldn't convince the child to flee to safety, Iruka instead wriggled into a position that he hoped would hide the hand from Quirrell's view.

Luck, it would seem, was not on their side that night. "Who's there?!" The hoarse shout came from Quirrell's position but not in his voice. As he swiftly rounded the Mirror, the man's wand flicked and a blast of wind blew Harry's cloak from his shoulders and off into the corner of the room. Another quick wand motion and the student joined his teacher bound on the floor, his appropriated shuriken falling uselessly flat behind Iruka.

"Ah, Harry Potter, of course." Quirrell smiled mockingly. "How kind of you to come; I had feared that I might have to leave that bit of business unfinished. And you even bring me a gift! This cloak will certainly come in handy later; I'll be able to feed you both to Hagrid's beast and then leave unseen, with no-one the wiser. For now, though..." He turned back to the Mirror, continuing his examination. "I don't understand... is the stone _inside_ the mirror? Should I break it? What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master! "

The other voice replied. "Use the boy... Use the boy..."

A clap of Quirrell's hands had Harry free, before he ordered the young Gryffindor to stand before the mirror and describe what he saw. He was so focused on the mirror that he clearly missed the subtle tug of Harry's robes, as if something heavy had been dropped into his pocket. Iruka's rapidly-escalating panic wasn't helped by his student's frankly pathetic attempt at a lie, and that was before, at the voice's urging, Quirrell began unwrapping his turban. When he turned around, the _second face_ on the back of his head fixed its red-eyed ophidian stare on Harry.

After a brief monologue that was half cryptic, half informative, and all melodramatic, the now-confirmed Voldemort demanded the Stone from Harry's pocket. Some fairly textbook attempts at intimidation and psychological warfare later, a now enraged Harry glanced briefly at Iruka before darting for the exit with Quirrellmort in pursuit. The moment Quirrell's hand seized the boy's wrist, however, both shrieked in pain and Iruka could swear he heard a soft sizzling sound. Harry quickly broke the hold on his wrist (if they survived, Iruka would praise him for flawlessly executing the basic taijutsu move) and both combatants retreated several steps, both still clearly in pain. Quirrell was actually hunched over, cradling a hand that was clearly burned and blistering.

Commanded by his master, Quirrell attacked again, bearing Harry to the ground under his weight and wrapping both hands around the boy's throat, screaming in pain as he did so. Another textbook hold-breaking technique later and the possessed man was again retreating, both hands now severely burned. At his master's order, Quirrell raised his hand to cast a presumably lethal curse, but Harry was faster. He leaned forward, grabbing his opponent's raised hand with his own and pushing it away while his other hand reached for the man's face. The screams this time were of an even higher pitch and intensity, largely drowning out Voldemort's furious shrieking, but Harry himself was clearly hurting a great deal as well. Quirrell tried to roll away, but his intended victim kept hold of him, maintaining contact even as his own strength visibly waned.

Iruka's heart soared when Albus Dumbledore strode through the black flames, his face a mix of concern and righteous fury. A barrage of spells blasted Quirrell away from Harry, sent his wand flying from his pocket, and left him bound, unconscious, and likely incapacitated in a few other ways as well. As the Headmaster ran to his fallen student, an oily black mist streamed out of Quirrell. Dumbledore fired off several spells into the cloud, but they seemed to have no effect as it fled shrieking through the wall.

Headmaster Dumbledore's attention immediately returned to Harry, frantically casting diagnostic spells for several seconds before sighing in relief. "Just exhausted," he said as he Vanished Iruka's bonds and canceled the silencing spell, "but it was a close-run thing." After Summoning the Stone from Harry's pocket, he rose and moved over to Quirrell's still form, casting more spells. "It would appear that Quirinus was not so fortunate. Possession exacts a terrible toll on the body, which would explain his resorting to unicorn blood, and without the Elixir of Life it is doubtful that he could have survived the wraith's departure even without such grievous wounds." Now the aged wizard seemed to scrutinize the late Professor. "I have my suspicions, but I must ask you while hoping they are wrong: Was it Lord Voldemort possessing him?"

"That's what he claimed," Iruka replied as he crouched by his unconscious student, performing some basic first-aid checks. "I actually came down here after him because Harry's scar started hurting, and he said it'd been hurting on occasion since the Sorting. It reminded me of something from back home, a mark that a notorious criminal would place on prospective followers; he could use it to inflict pain on them when he was near, and twice he used it to cheat death. That set me worrying that Voldemort wasn't as dead as most hoped, and that Quirrell wasn't just seeking the Stone for himself."

"Perhaps we might continue this conversation after delivering Mister Potter to the care of Madam Pomfrey?" Dumbledore gestured towards the black flames, before heading for the door. Iruka nodded, gently lifting Harry's insensate form and following. They stopped in the potions room to sip from the 'return' bottle and spell some of its potion into Harry's stomach, and grabbed a pair of brooms from the key room to make their way back up the shaft to the third floor. As they walked, Iruka recounted his and subsequently Harry's encounters with Quirrell and his passenger.

"It was incredibly foolhardy of Harry to come after me like that." Iruka looked down at the unconscious first-year in his arms. "It was also incredibly brave and incredibly lucky. If it weren't for him, I might not have made it out of there alive, and you might have found yourself facing a restored Voldemort. He showed why the Sorting Hat put him in Gryffindor tonight. True, he froze at first, but that's pretty common the first time somebody is in that kind of danger." He chuckled ruefully. "Even the current leader of Konoha, one of the greatest heroes in our history, froze up like that. Once he started acting, though, he kept his head. I could see it in his eyes when he tried to run that he was hoping to lure Quirrell away from me while I was helpless, and when he had to fight he refused to give up despite the pain he was in. I just wish it hadn't been necessary, that I hadn't let Quirrell catch me flat-footed like that."

"Even the best of victories leave us with regrets," Dumbledore commiserated, "but I cannot help but think of how tremendously proud James and Lily would be of their son, even if at the moment it would be overridden by worry."

Upon entering the Hospital Wing, Iruka saw his other two students were already present. Neville was lying in one of the beds, whether asleep or unconscious he couldn't tell, while Hermione had leapt from her seat nearby to rush over to the newcomers as soon as she saw them. "Harry!" Her shout was loud enough to draw Madam Pomfrey bustling form her office. "Is he all right, Professor? Are _you_ all right? What happened to Professor Quirrell? Is the Stone safe?" As usual for Hermione, her excitement caused her to fire off a stream of questions at high speed without waiting for answers.

It seemed that rescuing Iruka was in fashion that evening, as Madam Pomfrey spoke first. "Miss Granger!" Her scolding admonition was much quieter than the girl's inquiries. "Kindly refrain from disturbing Mister Longbottom's much-needed rest!" Chastised, Hermione withdrew with a sheepish expression. "Now, it would seem I have another patient. Please set him down here, Professor." She indicated a nearby bed. Iruka, knowing better than to tempt the ire of a medic in any world, promptly complied.

Several scans later, the Healer nodded. "Magical exhaustion, and as severe as I've seen it in a student. Dare I ask how this came about? No, no I thought not. Regardless, Mister Potter is well enough otherwise. I'll need to scan him again in the morning to confirm the timing, but for now I'd say that he should be awake in two to three days. He'll need to stay at least another day or two after that for further rest and monitoring, but after that he should make a full recovery. Now, unless you're expecting any _more_ casualties to come through my door tonight, it is past time for all of us to seek our beds."

"Of course, Poppy." Headmaster Dumbledore turned to Iruka. "Professor, would you be so good as to escort Miss Granger back to Gryffindor Tower? I'm afraid that my role in handling tonight's excitement is far from over, but it would ease my mind to be certain that all our students are accounted for."

"Of course, Headmaster." Iruka tipped his head to his employer before addressing Hermione. "Shall we?"

Once they were out of earshot of the Hospital Wing and the departing Headmaster, Iruka spoke again. "The Stone is safe, and Quirrell is no longer a danger to anyone. As for me, the only injury I took tonight was to my pride, something I intend to fix as soon as possible. Beyond that, I'd prefer to wait until I can speak to all three of you to share any details, though I _will_ be hearing how I ended up with a first-year student backing me up instead of a trained adult. That can wait too, though; for now, we all need to rest and recover from one frantic evening."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Iruka got his arse kicked. He underestimated his opponent and didn't have enough knowledge about magic. Now, however, he realizes this, which means he's less likely to make the first mistake and can start working on fixing the second. Both S.E.N.'s training and Iruka's own are going to change as a result of this (which is a big part of why I had things shake out the way I did, the other major reason being that Iruka stealth-ganking Quirrelmort would be boring and anticlimactic). I will admit that this was one of the very few places in the story where I've actively steered events rather than just letting the characters do whatever makes the most sense at the time.
> 
> Regarding Harry breaking Quirrelmort's holds, both sets of martial arts classes I've taken taught numerous responses to being grabbed by one or both wrists. Part of my takeaway from this (other than learning the techniques) was that grabbing the wrist of a trained martial artist is at best unproductive and at worst a recipe for pain (unless perhaps you're at least comparably well-trained). The more practically-oriented classes also included a couple of responses to manual choking. Given that both are part of mundane self-defense courses, it made sense to me that they'd be part of what limited taijutsu Iruka has taught to S.E.N. (and Luna) thus far.
> 
> Voldemort's wraith didn't fly through Harry because I'm going by the book version of events, in which Harry simply passed out from the strain. Also, there's no way to state this in-story, but Harry will be waking up a few hours earlier than in canon because his training with Iruka has slightly strengthened his magic and more noticeably strengthened his body.


	16. Debriefing

Classes that Friday were canceled aside from exams; a rotation of other teachers would cover the remaining Defense exams. Iruka, meanwhile, spent the morning in the Hospital wing getting the story from Hermione and a now-awake Neville.

Apparently, the three had headed from Sealing class directly to the office of their Head of House. Unfortunately, Minerva hadn't believed them that the Stone was under threat. She was totally confident in its protections, and didn't let them explain the situation. Of course, it didn't help that the attempted explanation was coming from three frantic first-years that didn't have the complete picture themselves and were talking about something they weren't supposed to know anything about in the first place. Still, the phrase 'due diligence' would be coming up in Iruka's next conversation with the Transfiguration teacher.

The trio had then discussed their next course of action: Hagrid was the only other staff member still available that they were sure even knew about the Stone, and was also the only one they were at all close to. His hut was a long way to go for something so urgent, especially with curfew fast approaching. They were likely to be stopped by another Professor, and there was a good chance that he wouldn't be home when they got there anyway. With no confidence in their ability to recruit any of the staff to back up their teacher, they resolved to aid Iruka themselves. As much as Iruka wanted to be mad at them for giving up on the staff so easily, he couldn't help the swell of gratitude at their show of loyalty and dedication.

Given the imminent curfew, and the advantages inherent in stealth, S.E.N. made a stop at Gryffindor Tower to drop off their bags, grab the flute Harry had received from Hagrid, and gather under Harry's cloak before sneaking back to the third floor. The flute had worked to lull Fluffy to sleep, and the three had dropped blindly into the darkness; Iruka could only assume that there was some sort of enchantment on the shaft to slow the fall to a safe speed. Neville had almost instantly recognized the Devil's Snare, and Hermione's signature bluebell flames had driven it back. Based on Neville's knowing look towards a slightly sheepish Hermione, the chuunin had to assume that there was some embarrassing detail they were carefully omitting from that part of the tale.

With the key's wing so badly damaged, it hadn't taken Harry long at all to retrieve it, while Hermione gathered up the shuriken Iruka had thrown, distributing them between the trio as they moved on (at this point in the tale, they each returned their portions to Iruka). The chessboard had frustrated them for a time, as none were particularly skilled at the game, but between the three of them they'd been able to pull out a win. Unfortunately, that win had come at the cost of Neville being captured, which drew a wince from Iruka as he recalled how brutal the captures in that set had been. The young Gryffindor had been knocked unconscious, and was still recovering from a nasty concussion. Before being taken, Neville had urged his friends to continue without him while reassuring them that the move was necessary. With Neville now unconscious at that point in the tale, Hermione continued her recounting alone.

As with Iruka, Harry and Hermione had quickly passed the unconscious troll. The dentists' daughter had insisted on double-checking the solution her teacher had written down for the potions puzzle for safety's sake. Confirming that the smallest bottle held the potion required to move forward, neither realized that it had to be self-refilling, and so both had concluded that only one of them could move forward. Harry encouraged Hermione to go back to get Neville to the Hospital Wing and do her best to contact Headmaster Dumbledore. She had actually passed the Headmaster in the corridor outside Fluffy's room, passing on what little she knew of events below, before helping a semiconscious Neville down to Madam Pomfrey's care.

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Contrary to Poppy's eminently sensible prescription for rest, Albus had spent much of the night liaising with the DMLE. A death at Hogwarts, even that of the Defense Professor (a decidedly accident-prone position in recent decades), was a serious incident and needed to be reported. That he had died while attempting to murder a student during an attempted robbery just added to the mess, never mind the identity of the student in question. Albus had been forced to explain to an irate Amelia Bones about Nicholas's Stone and the protections placed on it, as well as Quirinus's actions over the course of the year and the plan to bait him into action in order to finally prove wrongdoing.

Amelia had _not_ been pleased when she learned precisely whose face had been hidden under that purple turban, a sentiment Albus heartily shared considering the fact that it meant that Voldemort had infiltrated Hogwarts right under his nose and spent nearly an entire school year surrounded by vulnerable and impressionable children. Unfortunately, both reluctantly agreed that there was simply not enough evidence to officially identify the wraith. Given that lack, and the danger inherent in effectively announcing to those Death Eaters still at large that their former master was not wholly dead, it was decided between them to keep the whole matter as quiet as possible, as neither wanted to give Lucius Malfoy and his allies an opportunity to force Albus and possibly others out of Hogwarts in favor of teachers more in line with the Dark.

Once all of Amelia's questions had been answered adequately (save for those that would require her to speak with Professor Umino) and Quirinus's remains had been removed to the DMLE morgue, Albus stole a few hours of precious sleep before reluctantly spoiling Nicholas and Perenelle's breakfast with news of their Stone's near-theft. Much of his morning was spent in Devon, delivering the Stone back to its owners and discussing their options going forward.

After returning to the castle for a late lunch, he first visited the Hospital Wing to speak with Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom in greater detail than the previous night's urgency had permitted. Professor Umino had conveniently also been present for similar reasons, so after the interview Albus asked the visiting scholar to his office to discuss the previous night's events and provide a statement to the DMLE. While his Seals teacher was speaking to the Aurors, Albus put quill to parchment in order to notify Augusta Longbottom of young Neville's injury the previous night.

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Neville was released from the Hospital Wing on Saturday morning; Harry wouldn't wake until early the following day, according to Madam Pomfrey. Thanks to a thorough scan (at Iruka's prompting), the school Healer was also working out a potions regimen to hopefully correct some of the effects of long-term low-level malnutrition. She was already planning to vanish and regrow a couple of bones that showed evidence of improperly-set fractures, likely injuries from 'Harry Hunting' and bones made weak through lack of proper nutrients. It was actually lucky for Harry that he was unconscious and would remain so throughout the bone regrowth process, as it was apparently quite unpleasant.

Iruka spent several hours that day with Hermione and Neville, talking over what had happened. All three were a bit distracted with concern for Harry, but with Neville under orders to take it easy they couldn't work the tension out with physical training. Instead, Iruka took the two through Thursday night step by step, reviewing their actions and decisions in detail. He praised them where appropriate, but also pointed out their mistakes and places where they had better options (though their only big mistake was giving up so quickly on finding adult help). After going through their account, he shared his own and all three examined it for critique; he too got a good review for most of it, but definitely lost points at the end. The remainder of their time that day was spent talking about how they'd felt during the crisis, and how they'd been feeling since, as Iruka wanted to make sure that both children were dealing with it all in a healthy way (and no matter what the Sixth said, chronic tardiness and reading adult novels in public were _not_ healthy ways of dealing with anything).

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True to the school Healer's prediction Harry woke, groggy and weak, on Sunday morning. Both Iruka and the Headmaster had been waiting by the young boy's bedside, though other than providing some quick assurances about the safety of Neville, Hermione, and the Stone, the chuunin let his current employer do most of the talking.

Harry was clearly even more frustrated than his teacher at Dumbledore's refusal to share Voldemort's motivation in targeting the youngest Potter a decade before. The elder wizard's explanation for Quirrell's burns seemed to confirm Xeno and Pandora's theory, but his elucidation of the reasons behind Snape's vitriol towards Harry gave Iruka a headache. As egotistical as his description of his use of the Mirror was, though, it was admittedly a brilliantly elegant protection.

Finally, once all of Harry's questions to the Headmaster had been answered (or at least addressed), the Grand Sorcerer politely excused himself to attend his various responsibilities. With Madam Pomfrey relaxing in her office and the Hospital wing otherwise unoccupied, Iruka took the opportunity to cast a basic privacy spell.

"It didn't help much, did it?" Harry's face showed only confusion at his teacher's question. "When Headmaster Dumbledore told you that Quirrell's death wasn't your fault, it didn't make you feel all that much better. While you may know here," Iruka gently tapped his temple, "that it was purely due to the actions of Quirrell and Voldemort, you don't really feel it _here_." He tapped over his heart.

Based on his student's expression, he knew that he'd hit the mark but that Harry was now wondering _how_ he knew. "You know what I used to train students for, back home. They'd graduate, get assigned to teams, go out on missions... and sooner or later they'd come back from a mission with that same look in their eyes. It's the look of someone who's been in mortal combat for the first time and come back alive, with all that implies for their enemy. That you're not actually responsible at all for Quirrell's death doesn't matter right now as much as the fact that you _feel_ responsible."

Iruka paused for a few moments to gather his thoughts. "I was almost exactly your age when I killed for the first time. It started out as a pretty standard low-level mission, just escorting a merchant from Konoha to the capital. The road was well-traveled and well-patrolled, nowhere near anything dangerous; it should have been a simple walk there and back."

"It wasn't."

"On our second day outside the village, a group of bandits ambushed us. They weren't particularly well-equipped or well-trained, but they were numerous and clearly more than a little desperate." His eyes clouded over in remembrance. "Hiro-sensei went through them like a whirlwind through a pile of leaves, but a couple managed to slip past and rush us. My teammates and I brought them down, no problem, until one of them charged me with a kunai he'd picked up off the ground. It felt just like training, like a spar. I threw my own kunai at him; looking back I must have expected him to deflect or dodge it like one of my teammates would have, but he didn't have our training."

The next part was hard to remember, even three decades later. "It hit him right where I'd aimed it, buried itself in his throat. He dropped his kunai, clutching at the one I'd thrown as if it would somehow go away. Luckily he was the last to get through; even with all the violence around me, I couldn't look away from him, and probably wouldn't have been able to get my guard up in time if someone else had come at me. I just watched in horror as he laid there, saw the fear in his eyes as they slowly dimmed. I'd seen worse before, a lot of it was even happening around me right then, but this was something _I did_."

"It didn't matter that I didn't _mean_ to kill him like that. It didn't matter that if I hadn't acted, _he_ would have killed _me_ , and possibly one of my teammates or our client. A man died in pain and fear at my hand, and nothing I could do would ever change that or take it back. We may have had classes on how to deal with killing, learned coping methods, been taught to shut away our feelings, been conditioned and prepared to handle it; none of that meant a damn when you saw the light fade from a human being's eyes and knew that it was because of you."

"That night, after everyone else was asleep, Hiro-sensei sat down beside me, and we talked. He shared the story of his first kill, gave me his own personal tips on coping, and reassured me again and again that he was proud of me. I still had nightmares that night, but spending time around my team and our client drove a lot of them away by the time we reached the capital."

"I am proud of you, Harry. I am proud of you for striving to be your best. I am proud of you for braving danger for another's sake. I am proud of you for working together with your friends to overcome tremendous challenges. I am proud of you for keeping your head in a situation that would leave most people panicked. I am proud of you for facing down your parents' killer and doing your best to stop his plans. I am proud of you for refusing to give up in spite of overwhelming odds. I am proud of you for surviving a terrible ordeal."

"You're probably feeling guilty about feeling proud about thwarting Quirrell and Voldemort. You _should_ feel proud of your accomplishment. The means behind that accomplishment weren't pleasant, but they _were_ necessary. It's okay to feel good about _winning a fight_ just as long as that doesn't turn into pride over _killing an enemy_."

"I know for a fact that you're hurting over feeling like you took a life. That's not just okay, that's _good_. It means that you're still human, still a good person. As much as I wish that you would never have to feel like this again, I think we both know that someone like Voldemort isn't the type to leave you alone: You're a stain on his supposed invincibility, an embarrassment that he won't be able to ignore, so chances are he'll come after you every chance he gets. We grown-ups will do our best to protect you, but as you've seen that doesn't always work. You'll probably have to fight again, and it's unlikely that all of your enemies will survive. As horrible as it sounds, killing does get easier. On the one hand, that's good in that it means that we don't suffer as badly; on the other hand, it's bad in the cases where killing gets _too_ easy. Every decent person that steps onto the battlefield has to make sure that it always hurts, at least a little, to take a life; when it stops hurting, that's when you can get people like Voldemort."

Harry listened to Iruka's little speech, enthralled but still visibly conflicted. "But... I didn't hesitate at all," he finally replied in a small voice, "I knew what touching me was doing to him and I kept at it. It wasn't just a reflex taking over, or an accident. I saw that it hurt him and I _used_ that to _keep_ hurting him."

"Did you enjoy it?" Iruka's question provoked a look of revulsion and betrayal. "Of course you didn't. You were fighting for your life, and for the lives of others. Even the most gentle of people can get ruthless when they're desperate - it's one of the only ways most people can bring themselves to kill without special conditioning. As much as people fight over things, very, _very_ few can kill in cold blood. Of those that can, some are monsters like Voldemort, but others are still good people; they kill their own heart, enduring the pain of taking a life for the sake of protecting those that are precious to them."

"Remember how I talked about Jiraya-sama? He always said that a ninja is someone that endures: We endure strict training, harsh battles, fear and suspicion from others, the losses of friends and comrades, and the pain of killing our enemies. You're not a ninja, by training or profession, but I think you would have made an amazing one if you'd been born in Konoha. You'll endure this, like you've endured so much in the past, and you'll come away stronger than before. I believe in you, Harry."

The boy before him was clearly fighting to hold back tears. "Thank you, sensei," he finally choked out.

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Student and teacher spent the next hour discussing life, death, and battle. Now that a bit of a wall had been broken down between their experiences, Iruka was able to share things he'd held back previously in some of his tales. Rather than be disturbed or disgusted, Harry was clearly reassured by the fact that someone could go through something like his confrontation with Voldemort (and even a lot more) yet still come through as relatively normal and healthy as his teacher.

With Harry finally on a more even keel, the two moved on to reviewing everyone's actions that night. As he had with Neville and Hermione, the chuunin had his student examine both his own decisions and others' to understand what was done right and what could have been done better. Confronting the fight against Quirrell was hard for Harry, but he definitely seemed a bit lighter afterward; scrutinizing it so clinically took away a bit of its power over him.

The most positive sign came near the end of their review: During a thoughtful pause, Iruka caught a slight sniggering from his student. A raised eyebrow soon prompted an explanation. "I just remembered - over Christmas hols, Fred and George charmed some snowballs to repeatedly pelt Quirrell's turban. Now we know..."

Hogwarts' Hospital Wing rang with laughter.

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A little after lunch, Harry got two more visitors. At first, he seemed to shrink back a bit, as if he was afraid of something. "I'm sorry," he said as soon as they walked over, "you were in so much danger because you went with me, and now you'll be in more danger because you're my friends, and a professor died, and I'll understand if you don't want to be friends with me any more-"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Healthy set of lungs on that girl... "Neville and I _agreed_ with you that we couldn't rely on the staff to help Iruka-sensei. It was _our_ decision, _all three_ of us, to go ourselves. You're trying to take all the blame as if you somehow _forced_ Neville and me to go with you, but we were just as much a part of that decision as you were! Yes, we were in danger, but so were you! Do you really think we're the kind of people to abandon their friends to danger, then or now? That we're worse than _trash_? And as far as Prof- as far as _Quirrell_ is concerned, I'm sure you only did what you had to do to save yourself and Iruka-sensei. Him being dead isn't _nearly_ as important to us as _you_ being alive. _Honestly!_ None of us have so many friends that we're willing to lose one of our first and best, so get it through your head, Harry James Potter, that we are not going _anywhere_."

It was only as she was finally winding down that Hermione noticed Neville and Iruka chuckling at Harry's glazed expression. "What she said, mate," said a smiling Neville. "So, are you okay?"

Harry's face became pensive. "No, I'm not, not right now," he said at last, "but I think I will be."

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Hermione had eventually remembered to pass along a note to Iruka from Headmaster Dumbledore. It asked him to come up to the Headmaster's office at the next convenient opportunity, but stressed that he not rush but rather focus first on his students. So it was that when the chuunin teacher finally left his three students to continue chatting among themselves, he proceeded upstairs to the Headmaster's office.

Once the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, and his guest seated, Professor Dumbledore gave Iruka a knowing smile. "So, Professor, I asked you here because I hoped that we might discuss your background as a child soldier."

* * *

**Omake:**

"I am Lord Voldemort!"

The redheaded boy continued to glare impassively, but a layer of sand pulled away from every stone surface in the room…

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"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" The strange silver-haired man bound on the floor was apparently distracted by the little orange book lying open in front of him. Where had he gotten that, and why were so many birds chirping this late at night?

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"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"You," hissed the pale, effeminate man in front-ish of him, "are a pathetic imitation. I'm sure you'll make a fascinating research subject, however…"

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"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"And I'm Uzimaki Naruto, ya know! I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Oh? You and what army?"

That was the _wrong_ question to ask...

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"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"I am unimpressed." The dour black-haired young man in the strange robe stared at him calmly. Suddenly, Lord Voldemort's scarlet eyes met another pair of red eyes, and everything got _strange_.

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"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"Who?" The bizarre green-clad man looked at him in confusion, before realization visibly dawned. "That name, you must be..."

"Yes, now you realize just how doomed-"

"...French!" came the triumphant shout.

"What."

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"I am Lord Voldemort!"

"I am way too sober to deal with this crap," groaned the well-endowed blonde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake based on an idea in a review from Black' Victor Cachat. Feel free to submit your own!
> 
> Dumbledore's conversation with Harry is not significantly different from the one in canon, and I didn't want to just quote a big block of text practically verbatim.
> 
> Iruka's story about his first kill is completely without canon support, just something I made up.


	17. Revelation

_Once the usual pleasantries had been exchanged, and his guest seated, Professor Dumbledore gave Iruka a knowing smile. "So, Professor, I asked you here because I hoped that we might discuss your background as a child soldier."_

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Iruka tensed, then visibly relaxed after a second of running several escape/combat scenarios through his head; it was obvious that none would be necessary. "I take it I should have spent more time learning how to detect and counter eavesdropping spells?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I must confess to having engaged in something of a persistent campaign of surveillance upon you since you began meeting with Messrs. Potter and Longbottom and Ms. Granger." At a dark look from Iruka, he quickly continued in a placating tone. "I myself have heard very little of your conversations, rather trusting to the judgement and discretion of one of my predecessors." Here, he gestured to a nearby portrait of a witch, labeled 'Dilys Derwent, Headmistress 1741-1768', the occupant of which nodded to Iruka with a warm and approving smile. "Prior to her tenure as Headmistress here, Dilys was a Healer at St. Mungo's, and is thus well-acquainted with the handling of confidential and personal information."

The Headmaster's face became stern. "You must understand that when you first came here, you had very little in the way of character references, for good or ill. Given both Harry Potter's publicly-expected arrival and the far-less-public plan to relocate the Stone here for safekeeping, I'm sure you can see why I felt the need for caution. Your actions at Halloween eased my fears somewhat, as you risked one of your secrets for the sake of a student. I questioned the portraits in the relevant corridors, you see, to check whether you had made any attempt to probe the forbidden corridor. Imagine my surprise, then, when they said that you had moved in ways heretofore thought impossible for a human being. Out of respect for your actions, I commanded the paintings to keep your rather extraordinary mobility a secret."

"My concern was again prompted when you took such a direct interest in Mr. Potter, as well as two other first-year Gryffindors. Surely you can understand why I felt the need to make certain that nothing... _inappropriate_ was occurring. What little I heard was well within acceptable boundaries, and Dilys has assured me without sharing any details that your subsequent meetings have remained so."

"Beyond that, I have managed to get a look inside your rather remarkable configuration of the Room of Requirement - a truly marvelous secret of Hogwarts, would you not agree? - but I can only assume that your specifications for the Room included privacy, as the listening charms I placed proved ineffective. Assuming that we do not find ourselves irreconcileably at odds, I should very much like to see at some point what form of training and exercise the four of you take part in. Regardless, you have throughout this year demonstrated by word and deed that you place the welfare of your students first and foremost; you have also been honest in all regards save for the concealment of your background and capabilities, something for which I cannot truly blame you."

"And finally yes, I did place a listening charm near Mister Potter's bed, though I have since cancelled it. Your behavior at Halloween was my first indication that you had been a soldier of some sort, but I have been trying to piece together the puzzle that is Iruka Umino throughout this year. My instinct told me that your conversation with young Harry would provide the missing piece that would allow the others to make a coherent whole, and your account of your history proved said instinct accurate. I felt that with that revelation, it would be best to clear the air between us; this year's events have proven that you could be a potent and valuable ally and comrade in what I fear is an inevitably coming struggle against Lord Voldemort and his followers."

Iruka nodded. "I certainly can't fault you for your caution; I'd have been at least as suspicious as you were and probably a lot nosier. As you figured out, I'm a professional soldier; the terms we use are 'shinobi' and 'ninja'. I've found that these terms apply to a group of people from Japanese history, but those ninja honestly only bear the vaguest resemblance to what I am. They were mostly spies and saboteurs; their skills were focused far more on disguise and infiltration than on combat. We are more combat-oriented, though naturally there are those who specialize in various areas both combat-related and not. These historical ninja were also, at least as far as the Muggle sources I found them in could tell me, unable to use magic or other similar abilities."

"Something that I've kept from almost everyone in Britain is that Hi no Kuni is, as far as I can discern, not in this world. It's part of a continent we know as the Elemental Nations, with many countries of various sizes, and no part of the maps or globes I've looked at shows anything familiar. My best guess, and Pandora and Xeno have reached the same conclusion, is that I'm somehow from another world."

Dumbledore blinked. "Well, I suppose that would explain why you've had so much difficulty in finding your way home. There are fanciful tales of travel between alternate worlds, but to my knowledge you are the first confirmed case of this. If you and Pandora agree, and if I can somehow find time to do so, I would very much like to take a thorough new look through your work thus far, this time in light of this information."

Iruka shrugged. "I'll ask Pandora, though I'm sure she'll be fine with it. Her concept won't be able to get me home, but I'm still holding out hope that some other method will come up that could work. Regardless, you should probably know a bit more about shinobi, our role in our world, and our history..."

He proceeded to give Professor Dumbledore an explanation very similar to the one he'd given Xeno and Pandora when they were considering Luna's request to train with him. As with the Lovegoods, he painted an honest but still biased picture, focusing on the more positive and more recent aspects of shinobi life rather than uglier parts like ANBU and ROOT. Iruka also shared a couple of the more positive anecdotes from his own career, to contrast the darker and bloodier tales the man had apparently heard from his conversation with Harry.

"To be honest, I'd been considering talking to you about all of this anyway after the events last Thursday night. I went into that room expecting a fight, and yet Quirrell caught me by surprise and had me incapacitated with frankly humiliating ease. If my students are going to be in danger from wizards again, and it certainly seems like they will be, I need to be able to protect them. To do that, I need to learn more about how wizards fight, and how to fight _against_ them. Since you already know about my background and will likely soon see more my capabilities, I was hoping I might be able to ask you for help."

The aged wizard nodded with a smile. "If the opportunity presents itself, I would be happy to assist you in that regard, though my various responsibilities may make such occasions rarer than you would prefer. Filius Flitwick would be an excellent person to approach in this matter, should you be willing to expand your circle of trust to include him; having known the man for decades, I can vouch for both his character and ability."

"While your past history may be rather more... _colorful_ than my other staff, the context you've provided shows that you have spent much of your adult life in the service of others, whether that be by protecting or by teaching." The Headmaster smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling brightly behind his half-moon spectacles. "I would be happy to see you continuing to teach here at Hogwarts, and would be very pleased if you would call me Albus."

"I'd be happy to stay here, Albus," the chuunin replied with a grin, "and please, call me Iruka."

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**V**

All three members of S.E.N. returned to their classes on Monday, pushing aside thoughts of the previous week's adventure while they completed their exams. A few more days passed before Harry and Neville were both declared fit for vigorous activity by Madam Pomfrey, and so it was that they travelled to their training room on Saturday. Upon entering, they were clearly startled to see someone familiar standing beside the teacher they expected.

"Headmaster Dumbledore? What are you doing here?" Hermione blurted out her question before a look of embarassment came over her face. "I'm sorry Professor, I was just-"

A raised hand and gentle smile from the venerable mage halted her babbled apology. "It is quite all right, Ms. Granger. I suppose it must come as something of a surprise to the three of you to find me here, but Professor Umino was kind enough to allow me to witness one of your training sessions. Please, carry on as if I were not present."

At a confirming nod from Iruka, the three first-years did as asked. "They're just changing into their exercise clothes," he explained to his guest as they waited, "since they'll need to be able to move freely without their clothing binding, catching on things, or exposing more than it should."

"Sensible." The Headmaster nodded. "I note that your clothing is the same as that which you wore last Thursday night; I take it that this is your official uniform?"

"That's essentially right. The only part of this outfit that is strictly part of my duty uniform is this." Iruka pointed to his hitai-ate. "Every shinobi is given one when they first graduate, as a symbol that they are now a ninja. The engraved symbol differs for each village, generally a symbol or stylized version of whatever the village is named for: A leaf for the Village Hidden in the Leaves, a musical note for Sound, and the like. Vests like this one are given out when a shinobi earns a promotion from genin, the lowest rank, to chuunin, the intermediate rank. Everything else I'm wearing is essentially the basic standard garb for a Konoha ninja; plenty of us wear this outfit on duty, sometimes with slight variations, but many choose to wear clothes that better suit their own personal fighting style and fashion sense."

By this time his students had begun emerging from their locker rooms, so Iruka began their lesson as usual while Dumbledore took a seat in a conjured armchair at the edge of the vestibule.

**-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-**

This, Albus felt, was truly Iruka's element. He watched as the younger wizard - no, _ninja_ , he corrected himself - led his students through various physical exercises interspersed with periods of rest and meditation and what was clearly some form of martial arts routine. All the while, he kept up a constant stream of encouragement, praise, and information (the lattermost of which Albus listened to avidly). While he was certain that the younger man would handle a full-sized class of children differently, his methods here still showed the benefits of many years of teaching the material involved.

All three students were demonstrating noticeably greater strength, agility, and endurance than many of their peers could boast. Given that this was after only a matter of months, Albus could only assume that if they kept up their training through to graduation, they would be in fantastic physical shape and likely enjoy particularly good health as a result. A part of him also noted that such speed, stamina, and coordination would be tremendous assets in a duel, and that all three could likely become truly fearsome combatants in the years to come. Harry would stand in much better stead to face Voldemort and his followers as a result of this training, with two powerful and devoted allies by his side as well if things continued on their present heading. And yet, in spite of training for battle, all three children were clearly retaining their youthful (why did Iruka just cringe?) innocence and their ability to love and care for others. It had been a long time since the aging warlock had felt so optimistic about their society's future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give a bit of insight into Dumbledore's character in this fic, specifically how he settled on the third-floor obstacle course protecting the Stone. I'd have put it in the story proper, but unfortunately Dumbledore isn't sufficiently self-aware to recognize what's going on and nobody else has sufficient access to the inside of his head.
> 
> If you're anything like me, you've occasionally had an idea that you absolutely loved. It was amazing and brilliant and ingenious and all those other wonderful things. Then you tried to actually put that idea into action, and started running into little problems here and there, things you didn't think about when you first came up with it. You did other things that weren't exactly ideal, but you needed to do things that way to make use of your great idea. Eventually, a clever initial idea was surrounded by a shell of adaptations that were not clever.
> 
> Dumbledore started from the idea of hiding the Stone in the Mirror of Erised as he described, and it was a fairly clever idea, but he fixated on that idea as the solution to protecting the Stone and built everything else around it. There were almost certainly ways to keep the Stone safe that were more secure, less labor-intensive / resource-intensive, less dangerous to students, etc., but Dumbledore was too caught up in how clever his defense was and failed to notice when he passed the point when it would have been more practical to scrap the entire concept and take a different approach. His hubris and his difficulty acknowledging that other people might have better ideas and/or information than he does certainly didn't help, either.


	18. Spar

As the training session wound down, Professor Dumbledore stood from his chair. "A most impressive lesson, Professor Umino, and quite informative. Now, before you dismiss your students, what do you say to giving them a bit of a show?"

Iruka laughed, immediately understanding what his employer was suggesting. "Sounds good to me. You three, head to the entry area; the Headmaster and I will want full use of the room." Turning to Dumbledore, he continued. "I had Professor Flitwick teach me the Ferrumollia Charm earlier this week, and I've made sure to put it on everything I'm carrying today for the sake of safety."

As the Headmaster strode calmly towards the center of the training area, he nodded. "A sensible precaution, given your apparent fondness for edged weapons. For your information, children, the Ferrumollia Charm was created by Beaumont Stuart in the twelfth century. It acts similar to a localized combination of a Stinging Hex and a Cushioning Charm on the edge and point of a blade, and was created to help wizards of the time hone their swordplay in safety despite practicing with actual blades. I am curious though, Professor, how your people handle safety for such things?"

"It depends on the skill level of the people involved," Iruka replied with a shrug. "If they're relatively inexperienced, they use blunt training weapons; getting hit still hurts and bruises, but that acts as incentive to dodge or block. For those at a higher level, they'll sometimes choose to use live blades, trusting that their opponents will be able to adequately protect themselves. That's especially common in more open spars, since many of our forms of attack can cause quite a bit of damage if they get a solid hit in; you still need to practice, so you just have to rely on your sparring partner's skill."

"Not entirely dissimilar from magical dueling, then," commented Dumbledore, who now stood across from Iruka, both men near the center of the room and facing each other at a distance of around ten meters. As he drew his wand, he spoke. "Perhaps, until we have a better grasp of each others' capabilities, we should begin at a minimal level and gradually ramp up?" At Iruka's nod, the elder wizard bowed, his bow returned by the chuunin. Once both men were again upright, and in a ready stance, he cast.

A single bright-red spell leapt from Dumbledore's wand, heading straight at Iruka. At those distances, though, it was absurdly easy for him to simply lean out of the way. He made sure to leave several extra centimeters of clearance, though; it was inefficient to dodge by more than strictly necessary, and many times the smart move was to dodge by so little that an attack still grazed you, but he didn't yet have enough experience to know exactly where the 'edges' of the spell were. Misjudging a dodge and going down to the very first spell would _not_ be the most auspicious start to his magical combat training.

The next attack was a volley of spells, in several different colors. This time, rather than dodge in place, Iruka began running what would trace a wide circle around his opponent. After evading a few more spells, he decided it was time to start fighting back. His first attack was a single shuriken, on a shallowly-curved trajectory, which was knocked aside by an absent flick of the Headmaster's wand. Until he had a better measure of how spells left the wand, their angles and movements and areas, the chuunin felt it better to keep his distance to buy more time to dodge. Of course, this also gave his opponent more time to defend, but for now both were trying to probe each others' defenses and measure their attacks. Besides, powerful wizard or not, Iruka doubted that Albus's 110-year-old bones would be able to withstand even genin-level taijutsu for long.

After twenty or thirty seconds of trading increasing numbers of spells and bladed weapons, Iruka had made his way around to the pool side of the room. He dashed back in a zigzag pattern, weaving seals as he went, before leaping into the pool and completely submerging himself. Using the concealment provided, the chuunin produced a single water clone, then began forming a cloud of mist to obscure the entire area.

-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-

Albus was curious as to why his opponent had retreated into the water, before a mist like that described at the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch match began to form over the pool. Hearing another splash, he cast a quick **Ventus** to disperse the mist and reveal Iruka standing _on_ _top of_ the water. While it was certainly an impressive feat, the question still remained: What had been the point of this move?

The Headmaster's contemplation was broken as the shinobi again began circling him. More of his small blades flew in small groups, but were still easily blocked with shields or wide-area banishing spells. If anything, they seemed somewhat easier to block now than before, and Iruka's speed had dropped fractionally. Perhaps something the man had done was particularly draining or fatiguing?

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V

Iruka watched, Disillusioned, from where he crouched on the wall. He'd made sure to cast the charm on himself before he and his clone emerged from the water together, and followed up with an immediate Drying Charm on himself, before using the moment when the Headmaster (as he'd expected) used a wind spell to disperse the mist to disguise his leap onto the wall. Now he remained carefully still to minimize his visible presence, and stayed well above the height where spells were striking; it would be fairly pointless to use a decoy only to get hit by an attack that _missed_ said decoy, after all.

Using his connection to his clone, he directed it to continue his previous circling pattern until it was well on the far side of his opponent, though not directly on the opposite side as he still wanted to be able to see Albus's wand hand. Now, he figured, was a good opportunity to see how a wizard would react to someone attempting to close into melee range.

-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-

The cat-and-mouse game continued until Iruka abruptly changed course, now moving swiftly towards Albus in an erratic zigzag charge. Considering the martial arts routines practiced earlier, and the shinobi's use of bladed weapons, he suspected that letting the man get in close would be particularly ill-advised. That said, many saw the Supreme Mugwump's age and presumed that he was a feeble old man. In an instant, a plan formed.

˄  
˂

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V

The Headmaster continued casting at the clone, but seemed unable to score a hit, until it closed to within striking range. At this point, the older man hesitated. It was only for a split second, but that was a split second too long. The clone swung a kick towards his head, though he intended to pull the blow at the last second to avoid causing injury. To Iruka's surprise, however, Dumbledore smoothly slipped under the kick, which only managed to remove the wizard's tall conical hat. The chuunin realized that he'd been underestimating the physical vitality of the elder man, forgetting how even venerable shinobi often remained far more spry and capable than their appearance would suggest. Still, he had the clone press its attack.

-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-

Ducking beneath the blow, Albus didn't give his assailant time to follow up, instead casting a rope binding spell. At such close range, there was no time to dodge the eagerly seeking ropes that soon had the younger man cocooned from bicep to thigh. That is, until he seemingly collapsed into a puddle of water...

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V

Seeing the moment of shock and distraction, Iruka took his opportunity to hurl two handfuls of shuriken. The two were sent out to opposite sides on a wide, arcing path, to bracket their target and require him to defend in two directions at once. Dumbledore, it seemed, was up to the challenge, as a golden dome of light briefly sprang into existence and blocked the incoming blades.

Once the dome vanished, a wave of energy from the Grand Sorcerer's wand left Iruka illuminated in an aura of light that clearly marked his shape and position. Moments later, he felt his Disillusionment falling away, apparently canceled by his opponent's spellwork. The chuunin responded by resuming his run, this time along the wall.

Deciding it was time for a bit of an experiment, the Leaf-nin flashed through more handseals, weaving one of his go-to jutsu.

-――――===ͽ  ͼ===――――-

Albus watched as his opponent ran on the wall - and even knowing he could do that, it was still remarkable to watch - and brought his hands together in a series of strange but clearly well-practiced gestures. He readied his wand, suspecting that these gestures may be the ninja's equivalent of wand motions.

Sure enough, he suddenly felt _something_ trying to worm its way through his Occlumency shields. It was subtle, and he suspected that anyone without significant skill in the Mind Arts wouldn't even notice the apparent attempt to warp his perceptions.

Clearly expecting him to be distracted, Iruka once again threw two handfuls of his stellate projectiles. Albus again countered with a dome shield, but less than a second after he released it he felt a combined sting and impact on his chest. Realizing he must have been somehow successfully struck, he lowered his wand and called out, "I yield!"

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**V**

Slowing his movement, the younger Professor dropped smoothly back to the floor, and jogged over with a friendly smile. "I take it that your Occlumency caught my attempt at distracting you?"

Albus chuckled. "Indeed," he replied, "though I dare say that it was subtle enough that many would not have been so fortunate. I am curious both about what its effects would have been otherwise, and especially about how you apparently managed to score a hit against me."

"Well, to answer your second question first, I actually cast _two_ Disillusionment Charms."

Glancing down towards his feet, the Headmaster waved his wand and revealed one of Iruka's kunai lying Disillusioned at his feet. "Quite clever, I must say! My attention was so much on your throwing stars that I didn't notice the hidden knife following behind. You saw my response to your first such volley, and judged the timing of your throws to hit me just after my shield dropped. The shield itself would also have made it even harder to see the knife, as the slight distortion left by a Disillusioned object would have been lost in the distortion caused by looking through the shield."

Iruka nodded. "As far as your other question goes, that was a genjutsu, a hypnotic illusion. The particular one I used is called ' _Magen: Jigoku Kooka no Jutsu_ ', which translates roughly as 'Demonic Illusion: Descending Hell Technique'. It creates an illusion of a huge fireball falling from the sky, complete with a feeling of radiated heat. I figured that few things can compel somebody's attention quite like fire, and if the illusion got past your mental defenses your response would tell me about how you'd handle a _real_ fire-based attack."

The Headmaster beamed. "So you decided to probe my defenses in two different ways with one attack; most efficient of you. We'll have to discuss that water golem you used at some point as well - it made for quite the effective diversion. For now, I believe we have students to attend to."

Turning back to said students, Iruka saw all three standing there open-mouthed in amazement. As much as he wished he could manage an innocent look, he knew his smile was more than a little smug. "What, you've never seen a spar before?

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**V**

After dismissing a trio of students that were only now beginning to grasp some of what their teachers were truly capable of, the two veteran educators discussed each of the abilities, items, and tactics they'd used during the spar. Both agreed that it would be better to avoid pushing things further until they'd had an opportunity to determine under more controlled conditions how readily various attacks could be defended against. To that end, they arranged to meet back at the Room shortly after the end of term (since both would be much less busy at that point) to demonstrate and test various attacks and defenses.

Before they left, the Headmaster decided to indulge his curiosity and asked Iruka to make another attempt with the same genjutsu. This time, he deliberately allowed it through his Occlumency barriers, and confirmed that it would have indeed been a very compelling distraction.

* * *

**OMAKE! Okay, not really, just a less-meticulously-researched scene out of chronological order.  
**

Wizard and shinobi were back in the room discussing methods they each could have used during the spar.

"Well," Albus replied, "were I more serious in our little spar I would have begun attempting to restrict your mobility." A lazy flick of his wand created a patch of mirror-smooth ice nearby. "Ice would normally be my first choice for such things, but given the fact that you can stand on water I suspect that you're able to compensate for poor footing?"

Iruka nodded. "It can take a bit more focus, and the level of control required depends on just _how_ compromised the footing is, but in general things like ordinary ice aren't a big problem. Some ninja and ninja animals - I'll explain that later - are able to create chakra-based or chakra-infused lubricants or adhesives, and those often require special techniques or training to deal with."

The Headmaster looked thoughtful. "I know of several potions that could perhaps be similarly effective, but that would require a considerable amount of advance preparation, not to mention being prohibitively expensive to cover any meaningfully large areas. Perhaps... perhaps if I could not make you un _able_ to cross an area I could instead make you simply un _willing_ to do so..." Another wave of his wand and the ice vanished, before the stone extended upwards into razor-sharp blades that looked almost like dry grass.

The chuunin pondered the sight. "That would be a lot more problematic, yeah. I know some people that could plow right through it, their defenses being strong enough that it wouldn't bother them, but I'd have to either avoid it or deal with it somehow. The easiest way..." A quick series of hand seals later he was directing a blob of water from the pool to settle over the spiked area, deep enough to bury the blades.

Albus watched in fascination. "So those different claspings of your hands serve a similar role to wand movements, I take it?"

This was met with a waggled hand. "Sort of. Hand seals help guide the manipulation of chakra. It's theoretically possible to do jutsu without them, like point-casting, but that's the kind of thing that tends to take decades of practice to pull off; you need to learn exactly how your chakra is molded to create the effect, then train yourself to do it without the aid. Other than a few relatively easy or essential jutsu, almost nobody ever bothers to go that far - usually we just work to cut down on the number of seals needed or increase how quickly we can run through them."

"Anyway," the younger man continued, "let me show you one of the jutsu I'd use if I wanted to go more aggressively on offense. There's a reason that illusion I tried during the spar would be believable back home..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, no, this does not mean that Iruka can beat Dumbledore in a straight fight. It means that in a fight where he knew more about magic than Dumbledore did about ninjutsu, and could combine the two, he was able to catch Dumbledore off-guard while neither of them were fighting seriously.
> 
> Second, regarding the Elder Wand: Sorry to disappoint some of you, but Iruka is not its new master. Magic is heavily influenced by intent, and neither participant in this spar was going in with their intent focused on victory; both sought first and foremost to learn, and didn't really care who won. There are countless events that could potentially be argued as a 'defeat', from failing to push through a new law to something as trivial as not getting the prize in a Christmas Cracker, but these do not transfer ownership of the Deathstick. If Iruka had left one of his kunai live, and deliberately used that one as his Disillusioned attack, then he would be able to claim the wand because he was able to trick its current owner into allowing him to kill them. He'd also get it if he and/or Dumbledore had taken the spar more seriously and really cared about winning.
> 
> Third, the Ferrumollia Charm is my own creation (though it may have been partially inspired by the Inheritance Cycle and/or robst's "A Different Halloween"), but the genjutsu Iruka tried to use does come from the anime (who'd have thought filler would actually be good for something?).


	19. Surrey

At their first individual meeting since the fallout around the Stone incident, Iruka shared some news with Harry.

"I've done my best to look into if and how you might be able to spend the summer somewhere other than Privet Drive. The bad news is that you're probably stuck there for now." Unsurprisingly, the boy's face fell at this news.

"Apparently," Iruka explained, "there are a series of steps for determining custody of a child in Wizarding Britain: First parents, then immediate family like older siblings, then it starts to get murky. Sometimes the will of the child's parents or previous guardians will specify someone, or a list of someones, but in this case that's no help."

"Magicals get preference over non-magicals, but blood relatives come before relatives by marriage, who come before non-relations, who come before total strangers. If there's a tie, or if there's no obvious choice, the Ministry ends up deciding, and that's where things get really sticky here."

"Apparently your aunt and cousin are your only remaining close blood relatives; everyone else is several times removed. Your parents had a number of close friends listed in their wills, but all of them are either dead or in some way unable or ineligible to care for you. So, after the Dursleys, the next step for guardianship would be your rather distant blood relatives. Of those of age to care for you only two adults, sisters, are alive and not in prison. One of them, unfortunately, was cast from her family for marrying a Muggle-born wizard; it was actually through corresponding with her that I found a lot of this information. Her sister would likely be chosen to take custody of you, but given her family and their political leanings that might not be the best of ideas. Unless, of course, you _want_ to be Draco Malfoy's new foster-brother?"

Iruka suspected that Harry's attempt to turn Slytherin green was _not_ a sign of enthusiasm for that idea.

"Yeah, that's about what I thought. Unfortunately, her husband has the ear of the Minister of Magic and a lot of other influential people, despite apparently bribing and sweet-talking his way out of trouble for following Voldemort. Needless to say, I don't think that would be a very safe or healthy home for you."

"Anyway, the _good_ news is that I intend to make sure the Dursleys at least treat you like a human being this summer. I'll be speaking to them at the end of term to let them know the new way of things, and I'll also be visiting you at least once or twice a week to make sure everything's all right. Does that sound good to you?"

Harry nodded vigorously, clearly fighting back tears. "Thank you, Sensei," he finally choked out.

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**V**

At the end-of-year feast that night, Gryffindor won the House Cup by a decent margin, apparently breaking a long winning streak for Slytherin that was likely due at least in part to Severus Snape. As the decorations of the Great Hall took on the red-and-gold color scheme of the house of lions, every table but the snakes erupted in applause while the Potions Professor seemed to be trying to immolate them all with his eyes.

The next afternoon, Iruka met Harry at Platform 9 3/4. He'd sent a letter through the mundane post informing the Dursleys that he'd be giving their nephew a lift that day, and would also be speaking to them afterwards. Harry released Hedwig with instructions to meet him at Privet Drive, before his teacher shrunk both her cage and Harry's trunk.

One side-along Apparition later, Iruka was standing and Harry was dry-heaving in the isolated spot on Magnolia Crescent that the chuunin had now used several times for discreet magical arrivals and departures. Once the young Potter had caught his breath, the two walked somewhat solemnly to #4 Privet Drive.

Harry's gait and carriage changed as they drew closer to his summer residence: His steps showed obviously increasing reluctance, as his form hunched as if trying to become as small as possible. Every aspect of his posture and movements screamed out fear, shame, and reluctance. If Iruka hadn't already known that the Dursleys weren't fit to raise a stink, much less children, this would have made it more than amply apparent.

Finally their destination came into view, distinguished from its neighbors only by the number on the door and the apparently expensive automobile in the driveway. Taking a deep breath and calling on his every reserve of civil professionalism, Iruka pressed the buzzer.

"Probably the boy and his freak teacher." His hearing wasn't spectacular by shinobi standards, but the chuunin still made out the grumbled words of Vernon Dursley from within the house. "Best answer it and get this nonsense over with."

The footsteps that approached the door from within were far too light for either male Dursley, leaving Petunia their likely source. This was confirmed as the door opened to reveal Harry's aunt in all her thin, long-necked, horse-faced sneering glory. Though most of her expression broadcast her disgust and contempt for the wizards at her door, the stiffness of her movements betrayed a hint of fear. Her glance at Harry showed a flash of something unpleasant but too complex to identify, while her brief scrutiny of Iruka seemed to only intensify her disgust towards him. "Well don't just stand about where everyone can see," she snapped curtly, "get in here."

Nothing of note had changed inside the house since his 'visit' back in October. After swiftly closing the door behind them, Petunia led them into the living room with quick, stiff strides. Vernon, Iruka noted, did not bother to rise from his oversized armchair as they entered, nor did either he or Petunia invite them to sit; she merely stood scowling silently behind her husband's right shoulder.

Taking up a position at his student's side, Iruka decided to get things moving. "I am Professor Umino, and as stated in my letter, we need to speak regarding your conduct toward Harry this summer and going forward. I will be blunt: The way you have treated your nephew thus far meets the legal standard of child abuse in many civilized nations, including this one. It was never acceptable, far less _normal_ (he spat the word with thinly-veiled disgust). You may not have actively flogged him, but you used him like a domestic slave, encouraged your son to brutalize him, watched and laughed as he was attacked by dogs, and our school medic found the lasting signs of injuries consistent with abusively rough handling, as well as chronic malnutrition. On top of your attacks against his body, you have done your best to destroy him emotionally, socially, and academically."

"All of this will stop. _Now_."

"Now see here!" Vernon surged (well, struggled) angrily to his feet, his face a distinctly unhealthy shade of red. "I will not be insulted and told what to do in my own home! Especially not by some _freak_! We never wanted the boy, but you freaks forced us to take him in! We've given him a roof over his head, clothes on his back, and food in his stomach. Even tried to turn him into a proper, _normal_ Englishman, but that's clearly a waste of time with a worthless mongrel like him. So what if we made sure to get our money's worth? And of course we disciplined him! The brat is a liar, a delinquent, and a troublemaker; needs a firm hand..."

At this point Vernon trailed off with a look of growing fear on his face, one matched by his wife. Iruka had decided that he'd had quite enough of the man's bigoted vitriol, and allowed a small amount of anger-fueled sakki to leak out towards the Dursley adults. He kept it to a tiny sliver, though; any more and he'd probably send the morbidly-obese civilian into a fatal cardiac event.

"Sit. Down." The chuunin's voice was one of cold command, his face set in a harsh glare. Vernon quickly obeyed, rattling the picture frames on the walls slightly as he sat heavily back into his chair. "You may have spent the last ten years lying to yourselves, to your son, to your nephew, and to everyone else, but you cannot lie to me. I _know_ how you have treated your nephew. I _know_ that your son is a spoiled, obese bully whom you have abetted and encouraged at every turn. I also know that if Harry is not treated with at least a minimum standard of human decency from this day forward, everyone else will _know_ that you kept a child in a cupboard while two bedrooms sat uninhabited. They will _know_ that you gave him a crushing load of chores while you and your son lounged about. They will _know_ that you lavished your son with copious amounts of food, toys, and new clothing, while your nephew was forced to subsist on table scraps and secondhand clothing that barely qualified as rags. They will know and they will wonder how two people could treat a child so _abnormally_."

"And that will be _before_ I come for you."

"This is what will happen: Harry will be given adequate portions of food of the same quality the rest of you consume. He will retain usage of the bedroom he used immediately prior to school. He will be permitted reasonable freedom of movement and contact with his friends. He will be permitted to complete his summer reading and homework, as well as continuing his exercises. He will be given no more or worse chores than are given to his cousin."

"You will not strike him. You will not forcibly manhandle him. You will not attempt to confiscate, hide, or destroy his belongings. You will administer discipline in a fair and reasonable manner. You will speak to him in a civil manner, refraining from epithets such as 'freak'. You will ensure that your son abides by these restrictions as well."

"I will visit at least twice a week to check on him and confirm that these rules are being followed. I _will_ know if they have been broken. I will _not_ always announce the day and time at which I will arrive, nor will my presence always be obvious." At this he drew his wand, taking some vindictive satisfaction at their flinches at this action and their shrieks of terror as he briefly Disillusioned himself (he'd notified the appropriate Ministry office that he'd be doing a few spells in the area that day).

"I can be _anywhere_ ," Iruka said from behind the Dursleys as he shimmered back into view, provoking another pair of shrieks, "and before being a teacher I served as a form of soldier. Do not test my forbearance." Iruka turned to his student with a placid smile. "Shall we get you up to your room?"

 **Λ**  
**-――――===ͽ <  O  > ͼ===――――-**  
**V**

A few days later, after his first check on Harry (all was well, if tense), Iruka was called to the Headmaster's office.

Once the usual greetings, seatings, and refusal-of-sweet-ings were dealt with, Albus spoke. "I received an interesting letter today, through the Magical/Muggle Postal Relay. In it, Harry Potter's aunt Petunia makes some very serious accusations towards you, mostly revolving around attempting to threaten and extort them into giving Harry special treatment. Given the rather extreme nature of these allegations, the fact that they seem outside of my understanding of your character, and the fact that I greatly doubt that young Harry would tolerate such behavior towards his family, I thought it only prudent to ask for your account of events."

"I did make some threats," Iruka admitted, "although most were of a social rather than physical nature. The part about demanding 'special treatment' for Harry though is a shameless lie. Had I been able to find someone decent that could reliably get and hold custody of Harry in place of the Dursleys, I would have done so, but you probably know better than I do the convoluted mess that is child custody in Wizarding Britain." At Dumbledore's frowning nod, he continued. "Much of what Harry and I spoke about in our private sessions is just that - private - but I can tell you that his experience of Potions class this past autumn was what some might call 'a taste of home' for very loose definitions of the word 'home'."

"Iruka, while I cannot share any details - you probably know better than I do the concept of 'need to know' - you must understand that there are very specific and important reasons that Harry remain with his family during the summer holidays. While he need not remain in the house constantly, and could likely leave it after a number of weeks, it is vital that he return there for a period each summer. While the Dursleys may be harsh, they are still his kin, and family takes care of family."

"Albus, while _I_ cannot share any details, you must understand that the Dursleys do not consider Harry family, or possibly even human. From what you told me about your eavesdropping campaign, Headmistress Derwent can confirm my assessment. Harry's treatment at the hands of his relatives was so bad that we should actually be _thankful_ that they never told him about magic." The current Headmaster and former Headmistress (whose portrait had stopped pretending to doze at the mention of her name) looked confused. "If he had known _why_ they were treating him so harshly, he might have tried to suppress the cause." Headmistress Derwent clearly understood and agreed, as she looked positively ill. "I'm certain as learned a man as you is familiar with the work of Newt Scamander?"

Iruka could tell the moment his employer worked out what he was trying to say as the man's face suddenly seemed to do its best to match his snow-white beard for color. His head whipped to the portrait of his predecessor. "Truly, Dilys? He could have..."

"Yes, Albus," the former Headmistress said darkly, "he could have developed an Obscurus."

For the first time in Iruka's experience, Albus Dumbledore looked every one of his one-hundred-and-ten years, and possibly a decade or two beyond. "No wonder you've been so cold to me; I thought it was because of the workload of handling the listening charm, but you rightfully blamed me for what poor Harry has suffered this past decade."

The Headmaster turned back toward his guest. "Newton Scamander may have documented the phenomenon of Obscurials, but his writings could never convey the full reality. To see a child, particularly someone you care for, so tormented and be unable to help... to simultaneously love them and fear them, and know that they are almost certainly not long for this world... It is not a fate I would wish upon anyone. And yet, now I hear that I almost brought that calamity upon Harry Potter... It would seem I owe a number of people some very sincere apologies, Mister Potter most of all. I presume that your _interactions_ with the Dursleys have been to ensure that they treat their nephew properly?" Iruka nodded. "Good. I may pay Petunia a visit myself in order to _enlighten_ her as to what she and her husband nearly unleashed upon themselves. While the risk has mostly passed by now, I would prefer to be absolutely certain that such a thing will not happen again. You may go, Iruka; I have much I need to think about."

Iruka nodded and rose to leave. As he reached the door, he commented, "Next time we talk about my world, remind me to tell you about Sabaku no Gaara. He wasn't an Obscurial, but the similarities... His siblings probably have a good idea how it feels, what you described."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that don't know, an Obscurial is a magical child that's tried to suppress their own magic because of fear or trauma. Basically, this causes a dark force called an Obscurus to form inside the child, occasionally bursting out and wrecking stuff. They pretty much always die young, often after causing a lot of collateral damage. Ariana Dumbledore is one example, and JKR herself has stated that the only reason Harry didn't become an Obscurial was because the Dursleys hid the existence of magic from him. For a more detailed explanation, check out the Harry Potter wiki and/or the movie Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
> 
> Anyway, this marks the end of Book 1. Next is Book 2: Umino Iruka and the Hidden Snake!


End file.
